Severed Ties
by Darryl J
Summary: Sequel to Family Ties: Begins two weeks after FT ended. Buffy's still in a coma, Xander disappeared and the others are trying to put the pieces back while another evil plans to destroy them. ANOTHER UPDATE! CH 42!
1. Bless This Child Prologue

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A/N: Well, here it is, the long awaited sequel to **Family Ties. **It starts a few weeks after Faith's journal entry and from there, the dates will be listed because it will cover a five-month period before the final battle as Faith foresaw in her slayer dream. 

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Severed Ties

Prologue

__

Bless This Child

May 22nd, 1983

"Push, Mary, push," Doctor Stephens urged the woman on the table. It had been this way for the past three hours for Mary Jansen and her soon-to-be son or daughter. She listened to the distant voice encourage her. She barely had the strength to break through the fog of pain interfering with her other senses. Never had she thought anything would hurt as much as losing her husband, Joe, four months ago but the agony that cascaded through her lower regions temporarily numbed that heartrending memory. 

"You're doing fine, Mary," her younger sister, Jackie, encouraged. The short woman held Mary's hand, never once complaining of the tightening grip of her laboring sister. "Come, sweetie, we're almost there. Almost there," she cooed while her free hand stroked Mary's thick mane of black hair affectionately. 

"Come on," Mary grunted, trying to push forward the small city that seemed to have taken residence within her womb. "Come on!" She screamed as the pain intensified, ripping through her and for an instant, Mary thought it would kill her. That was until she heard the distant cry of life somewhere in the room. She glanced around with sleepy eyes, noting that Doctor Stephens was holding something before her gaze drifted to her sister. The tears pouring from her sister's eyes at first alarmed Mary until Jackie met her gaze and smiled. 

"It's a boy, Mary," she sobbed with tears of joy, "it's a boy." 

Mary reached a hand up to brush the tears away from her sister's cheeks, returning the smile. "A boy…a boy…" and then everything went black and Mary succumbed to stringent embrace of unconsciousness.

*&*

"There's Mommy. Say hi to Mommy," a familiar voice cut through the nothingness that surrounded Mary. Slowly, she opened her eyes, immediately blinking back the sudden glare from the lights before her eyes adjusted. 

She scanned the room briefly before fixing her gaze on the beaming brown skinned woman to her right. Save for the woman's perky nose and short, dark hair, she was very close to being Mary's twin. Mary stared into her sister's green eyes, smiling at the love and adoration that shone from them. This 'little person' as Mary jokingly called her younger sibling was the only reason she had survived the past four months after Joe had been killed in the line of duty. They had been best friends, one another's "diaries" for the last nineteen years, ever since Jackie was old enough to talk and it had only solidified as they got older. Jackie was a perfect opposite to Mary's shy yet fiery demeanor; there to light her older sister's fuse when needed and, at the same time, acting as Mary's rational frame of mind when the older sister's emotions bubbled over. 

Thankful for all her sister had been to her, Mary smiled at Jackie and reached her hand out when a telltale whimper escaped from the bundle in Jackie's arms. 

"Oh baby, you want Mommy, don't you?" Jackie cooed and Mary's eyes were alit with shock. "Baby boy's hungwie, isn't he. Well Auntie Jackie doesn't have the foods, baby boy. That's Mommy over there that has that," and with that, Jackie stood and handed the baby over to her older sister. 

Mary carefully took possession of the mewling child, marveling at the bronze glow of the infant's skin. _Not infant, _she reminded herself, _my son. _

"Our son," she whispered as the child stared up at her with his chocolate brown eyes, the same eyes that his father possessed. 

The child bit into his fist and cried when the limb gave him no sustenance. Wasting no more time, Mary lifted the hospital gown enough to expose her bare breast and brought her son to her chest. He immediately attacked the bare nipple and both women laughed. 

"Somebody's hungry," Mary cooed as the baby suckled her teat aggressively. "So," she said after a few minutes of watching her son in amazement, "how long was I out?"

"Few hours," Jackie said, brushing a strand of hair out of her sister's face. "Doctors said you were just exhausted. They were astonished that you recovered so quickly." 

"So, where's Doctor Stephens at now?" 

"He stepped out for a few."

"And let me guess, you talked him into letting the little guy here stay with you?"

"What can I say?" Jackie fanned herself mockingly. "I guess I just have a way with people."

"That you do, lil' sis," Mary said before turning her attention back to her son. 

"So," Jackie said as her nephew drifted off into sleep, "have you thought of a name for him?"

"Cedrik."

"Cedrik? But wasn't Joe's middle name…"

"I know. But I like Cedrik better. It's close to the original but far enough away for him to make his own name. And that he will. My Cedrik Tobias. Cedrik Tobias Jansen." 

"Tobias?" 

"It means 'God is good'. And he has to be to give me such a special gift." They both looked at the now sleeping infant before Jackie spoke, her voice filled with emotion. 

"Joe would be so proud of you."

"Yeah, he would," Mary replied before brushing a kiss across her son's brow. "You're gonna make your father so proud, Ced. You're gonna make him so proud."

Just a little insight to the first few chapters. I'll give the names but you guys will have to draw your own conclusions as to what will happen. 

***Chapter One---_Two of A Kind_

***Chapter Two---_Still I Rise_

***Chapter Three---_Slayer Dreams All Around_

***Chapter Four---_Summers Mornings_

***Chapter Five---_The Gathering_

I don't know what the update calendar will be for this but I do have the first 14-15 chapters mapped out so all I have to do is fill out the ideas with words. I'm really excited about this fic and really believe that it will be even better than the first one. 


	2. Two of a Kind

Severed Ties 

Chapter 1

Two of a Kind 

_April 29th, 2002_

            "You're still telegraphing your left, Bitlet," Spike called over to Faith as he watched his daughter take on two rather ugly vampires. She threw the smallest one into a tree near him before turning her attention back to the larger one. 

            "Am…" she threw a left at it, ready to shoot a funky retort to Spike when the vamp blocked it and delivered an uppercut to her exposed chin, sending her spiraling to the ground. 

            "…Not," she finished lamely while shaking the cobwebs from her mind. She barely had time to wipe the blood from her lips before the biggest vampire pounced on her. 

            "Can't be a gentleman and help a girl up, huh?" She quipped while holding the snarling vampire at bay. Though she was stronger, she had yet to recover fully from the fight at the Bronze a month ago. She was still leery about her once shredded leg and, without it, couldn't get the leverage to hurl the vampire off. 

            Spike watched with an arched eyebrow at Faith's obvious struggle with the burly vampire. He saw out the corner of his eye as the second one finally rose and focused in on Faith. Before it had the chance to pounce, Spike intercepted the fledgling by the throat and slammed it into the same tree Faith had just thrown it into. Seeing that this particular threat was thoroughly neutralized, Spike turned his attention back to Faith 

            "You know," she said lightheartedly to the vampire above her, "this just isn't working out. I mean," head butt, "I know you're really trying and all," right cross, "but I really do have other things," left hook "to do." The last punch knocked the vampire off of her and Faith shot to her feet, not giving the vamp time to breath before its eyes widened in surprise and pain as the tip of the stake pierced its heart, quickly followed by the swoosh of another dusted vampire. 

            "Bout time, 'let," Spike drawled, clearly annoyed. "What were you waitin' for? A bleedin' invitation by way of a bite on the neck?"

            "I had it under control," Faith responded, brushing the dust off the sleeves of her leather duster. 

            "Yeah, that's why it took you five minutes to dust a soddin' minion," he retorted sarcastically. 

            Faith ran a hand through her lengthening golden locks and simultaneously rolled her emerald cerulean eyes. "Daddy," she sighed in exasperation, "he's dust, I'm alive. Happy endings all around. And it didn't take five minutes," she muttered the last part under her breath. 

            "Like 'ell, Bitlet. There is no reason that you need more than five moves to stake that sorry mistake for the undead. 'Specially when there's another one just waitin' to snack on the tasty morsel of a slayer." He jerked his head towards the now struggling vampire caught in his iron grip. 

            Faith smiled patronizingly before responding. "I knew you had him." And with that she turned to walk away. 

            Spike was incensed. How many times had he wanted nothing more than to strangle this girl while on patrol in the last week? She had been so attentive to his instruction the week before when they sparred but now that she was out in the field, her head had grown quite large. The British vampire didn't know what it was, but his little girl had a way with infuriating him to no end with her brash cockiness and stubborn attitude. It reminded him of a certain slayer that…

            Without thinking, Spike released his hold on the vamp and its eyes traveled between the infuriated vamp and the woman with her back turned. It took two tentative steps away from the tree before charging at the unsuspecting Faith. 

            Faith smiled, knowing that she had struck a nerve with her dad. She surmised that pushing Spike's buttons was ingrained into her DNA considering the ways Buffy had always sent him off the deep end. Of course, it worked both ways and Faith knew she had been lucky to get to him first, because he was definitely pushing her Anger-o-meter to the top with his overprotective ways. If it wasn't for…

            Faith stopped in her tracks and delivered an elbow to the face of the vampire charging behind her. She then connected with a backhand before triggering the blade from the gauntlet on her right arm. Bringing it around in a wide arch, she sliced through the neck of the vampire, severing bone, tissue, cartilage and nerves. The vampire stood there in shock before its head slid off and its remains matriculated with the dirt lining the ground of the cemetery. 

            Satisfied, she peeked a glance at Spike, who was now fighting a smile before turning her head and flicking her hair back (though it wasn't quite long enough to have much an effect in the way of flair) before walking away. Two steps out and she tossed over her shoulder, "That was three moves. Good enough for you?" She almost wet her pants when she heard the frustrated growl of her father and the distinctive crash of another broken tombstone. 

            "He's gonna kill me," she said to herself before skipping the rest of the way through the cemetery. 

*&*

            The rest of patrol was relatively quiet between father and daughter. They had traversed three more cemeteries and, after nine dustings and three demon kills, called it a night as Spike didn't want Faith overdoing it her first week back out. Now, on their way back to 'Hotel Revello' as it was not affectionately known, both were lost in their own thoughts concerning the other. 

            Ever since the night at the Bronze, Spike was torn between absolute pride, utter frustration and spiraling despair. He and Faith had continued to bond, two of a kind in almost all things. They had trained and patrolled together, watched the telly and even hung out on top of his old crypt just talking. Spike watched his daughter with a critical eye, marveling the speed at which she polished her technique. Everything had been going rather smoothly up until the last week. Whereas Faith was usually attentive to his observations about her fighting style, now she would snap at him, always having something smart to say. It's not like she didn't huff at his teaching before but now—something was wrong that she wasn't telling. 

            Of course, it could be the fact that her Mum's in the hospital with no signs of waking that's got 'er on edge, he thought. There was no question in Spike's mind that the anxiety of Buffy's coma continued to wear on the gang with each passing day and Faith was no exception. To be honest, his mood hadn't been overlaid with rays of sunshine, either. Were it not for Faith and Dawn (and to a lesser extent, the Wiccans) Spike knew he would have careened into the depression he had felt thrice before: the first time was when he had to watch Dru and Angelus together while he was stuck in the wheelchair. Then there was when Dru left him for good and those first months after the chip was shoved into his brain. Buffy's death was not on that list; the emotions he felt then were beyond description and hopefully he'd never have to have a repeat visit of them. 

            Faith was still wrestling with the premonitions her dream had given. Though she had shared with them all what she saw coming about Gabriel, the one about Buffy's awakening she kept to herself. Giles wasn't sure whether or not Faith's dreams of Gabriel were real or a post-traumatic stress response of the situation involving Seth in her time. That had made Faith question her own belief that her mother would awaken within the next couple of weeks. No, she had decided that she would keep that to herself, not seeing the need to get everyone's hopes up only to be disappointed. So she had lived with the uncertainty gnawing at her insides and though she usually covered it well, her attitude during slaying had gotten progressively worse. 

            "Bitlet," Spike's voice snapped Faith out of her wandering thoughts. 

            "Yeah?" 

            " 'M sorry bout snappin' at you the past couple of days." Spike ducked his head and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his duster. 

            "Daddy," Faith said and interlocked her arm around his. 

            "No, 've be actin' like a right git these past few days. Guess it's just comin' out more when we patrol for some reason."

            "Pent up aggression?" He chuckled briefly before returning to the topic at hand. 

            "Truth is, I miss your Mum. Miss 'er so much." Faith ground her teeth to keep the sob that clawed at the back of her throat from making itself known. 

            "I know," she whispered. "I miss her too." 

            "I know she'll wake up but then again I don't know. Hell, just last year, I thought that I'd never see 'er again but out of nowhere, there she is, descending the steps like an angel. I don't know what is worse; that or watchin' 'er sleep forever."

            "It won't last much longer," Faith said with conviction. Spike couldn't help but smile at his daughter's adamancy.

            "You know, you and your Mum are so much alike with the stubbornness. Soon as you get somethin' in your bleedin' head, you'll stick to it, come hell or high water."

            "Just like you, huh?" 

            "Not like me, Bitlet." 

            "Piffle," she said, waving her hand in front of them. "If you didn't stick to pursuing Mum when she was in her—and these are her words—'Buffy the bloody Bitch' mode, then this little miracle," she pointed to the top of her head, "would have never been." 

            Spike grinned, knowing exactly what Faith meant. All the times Buffy beat him down with words, he still remained constant in his love for her. Sometimes he had wondered if it was the pain, like she said in the abandoned building, that he was addicted to that kept him coming but now…now he knew it was just the pull of his unnatural love for his mortal enemy. It was a love that was more potent than a thousand suns to him that fueled him. And his gift—their gift—was the beautiful young woman draped on his arm this minute. 

            "Faith," Spike said, forcing his mind to the present and future. 

            "Yeah?" 

            "You know I love you."

            "Yeah, Daddy, I do." 

            "And that I would do anything for you."

            "Daddy, what are you getting at?" 

            "Well," he stopped and grabbed her shoulders firmly, giving her a somber look. "I don't know how to tell you this…"

            "Just tell me," she demanded, stomping her foot. 

            He lowered his eyes and, for a second Faith was afraid that what he said would break her heart but when he stared back at her, he couldn't quite keep his smirk hidden. 

            "You're still telegraphin' your left."

            "Daddy!" She roared and slapped him on the arm. 

            "And you are slightly off balance when you throw your left kicks." 

            "Argghhhh!" She growled and assaulted her father with light slaps on his chest and arms. When Spike turned to run, she pounced on his back, sending him to one knee. He struggled to get up while she playfully worried his right shoulder with her teeth. That only lasted for a minute before she spat out the taste caught in her mouth. 

            "Ewww. You really need to clean this thing," she said between hacks before wrapping her arms comfortably around his neck. 

            "I didn't get it for its tasty flavor, 'let."

            "Well, still…" 

            "I don't suppose," Spike said after standing, "that I can persuade you to get the bloody hell off me, can I?"

            "Nope," she said, popping the 'p'. 

            "Figured." 

            "Horsie Go," she whined and her heels dug into his upper thigh.

            "Hey! Watch it."

            "Sowwie."

            "Yeah," he harrumphed before starting up the trek towards home. "Don't think your Mum'd 'preciate you neutering her stallion." 

            "Oh God," she huffed and Spike could hear her eyes roll. "As if catchin' you guys in the bathroom when I was five wasn't traumatizing enough."

            "You what?" 

            "You heard me. Yep, my mind shut down. Couldn't speak for weeks. Guess that's what happens when you see your parents goin' at it up against the bathroom wall." She could almost feel the vampire's embarrassment even though he had not had that experience yet. 

            "Relax, Daddy, I'm kiddin'." 

            "You were?"

            "At least about the not being able to speak part. Actually, you guys couldn't shut me up about it for weeks. I think I told everybody. Auntie Dawn and Aunties Tara and Willow. My kindergarten teacher…"

            "So much better," he drawled sarcastically before breaking out into a light jog.

            "Yay," Faith exclaimed. "Horsie Go!" 

            "Just don't expect me to do any bleedin' horse sounds." But Faith didn't hear him as she was absorbed by the exhilaration and comfort it all was. And, for the first time since Tara came out of her coma, Faith Joyce Summers was content. 

*&*

            "Down you go, luv," Spike told Faith as he stepped onto the porch. 

            "Do I have to?" She whined before setting her feet down. Spike smiled at her childish pout, reminding him even more of the woman that carried Faith in her womb for nine months. The same woman that even now lay unconscious. Buffy had come back immortal but that didn't me that she was indestructible. And with no knowledge of her brain's condition (though the doctors said there was no major damage) she could conceivably lie in that state forever. The simple thought of it made him shiver and Faith caught the slight movement. 

            "Daddy? You okay?" 

            "What? Oh, right. Yeah, I…" Faith kissed him on the cheek before staring him in the eyes. 

            "Don't lie to me. Please." 

            Seeing her concern, Spike sighed before telling her his fears. 

            Faith listened intently as her father told her things that she, too, had given thought to. She wanted to tell him what she saw in her dream but what if she was wrong? What if her mother never woke up? She couldn't do that to him, not after everything he had been through when Buffy died the first time. 

            "So you see, Bitlet?" Spike steadied his shaky voice. "See why I want you to slay fast and not play? Losing Buffy was bad enough the first time and now--even with Dawn around, without you here I would never have survived that first week. You're all I have left of 'er. If anything ev'r happened to you, I'd…I'd…" but he couldn't finish as an aching sob broke free and Spike fell into his daughter's arms. 

            The young Summers could do nothing but hold her father as he fell to the ground and wept. It was the first time since the night at the Bronze that he had cried in front of anyone and in a way she was relieved that he finally released the anguish locked up inside. A silent tear trailed down her cheek but she dared not let loose the anguish that threatened to seep from her soul, knowing that right now Spike needed her strength more than ever. 

            Spike's cries tapered off after several minutes and it took him just as long before he was strong enough to push away from her. The stood simultaneously and brushed the other off before making eye contact. 

            "I love you so much, Daddy," Faith said and brushed a stray tear from Spike's cheek. "I'm sorry I've been so difficult these last few days but I've just been…"

            "No worries, kitten," Spike assured and ran his hand through her hair. "Just remember that I only want you to be the best. I can't bear to lose you, Bitlet."

            "You won't. Lose me. I love you guys too much to leave you. And she will wake up." Spike could only nod at the confidence in her voice before kissing her on the forehead. 

            "Thank you, baby. I needed that." 

            "So," she said as she turned the key in the door, "going to see her tonight?" 

            "Reckon I should. Been a couple days since I 'ave." 

            "Be back before dawn?" 

            "Always, luv." He kissed her once more before spinning away and walking towards his De Soto parked in the driveway. 

            "Daddy?" Faith called from the threshold.

            "Yeah, Bitlet?" 

            "I'll wait up for you."

            Spike could only smile, knowing that telling her not to was as effective as telling Buffy not to do something. 

            Faith watched as he got in the car and pulled out. The red taillights winked at her before disappearing around the corner. 

Faith sighed and closed the door. As she walked downstairs to Spike's bed she prayed once again to God to wake her mother up. She had already lived through one parent dying before her eyes; she didn't have the strength to do it again. Even with Spike at her side, Faith wasn't sure how much more she could take without her mother by her side. 

Hopefully, she wouldn't have to wait too much longer.  

TBC…

Next: Chapter 2, _Still I Rise. _A lost Scoobie in South America... 


	3. Still I Rise

**Severed Ties **

Chapter 2

_Still I Rise_

South America 

_April 30th, 2002 _

_3:17 am_

            The pale moon howled, its light blanketing the night, leading the distant stars in the gleeful chant as rulers of the night sky. They illuminated everything; the secluded villages, the passing strangers that braved the night and the canopy tops of the jungles. But rarely did they touch the sacred grounds of those very jungles, shut out by the selfish leaves of the trees that claimed it as their own. At times they were forgiving, opening up just enough to give the night lights a taste of the dirty basin of the wild but never enough to satiate. Never enough to survive. 

            Survive. That was the only thought that ran through the two yellow-skinned Miquots that tore through the foliage. The larger one held up his smaller kin whose right arm dangled by his side after a shotgun had barreled through the flesh. 

            "MaKri," the larger one whispered to its barely conscious clansman, "we must hurry. He is close by. I can feel him." 

            "I don't know if I…the pain…Ulklan…"

            "We are warriors, spesinsido! Pain is nothing to us," Ulklan spat and hoisted his brethren up by the waist and continued dragging him through the dense underbrush. 

            They hadn't gone twenty yards before the air whistled as a projectile tore through it. Neither Miquot had a chance to react as the bolt pierced MaKri's skull, ripping him from Ulklan's grasp. 

            "MaKri," Ulklan bellowed as he turned to his fallen kin. Though he knew the other one was dead, Ulklan still surveyed MaKri's body in search of finding life. He was so intent on the body that he didn't hear the rustle of foliage as a black shape dropped from the trees. 

            The stranger watched the scene before him with emotionless eyes. It had been a little over a month since he had returned from--well, Master had never told him where they had gone. But when he had returned to this place, this realm, already forged with a new strength, one that had been granted by sharing his Master's blood, he had set forth to kill each and every demon that crossed his path and even those that ran from his presence. The first night, his silver blade had cut down six Fyarls with the help of the silver shots that sang from the barrel of his shotgun. The second night he had slaughtered a nest of vampires and leaving one alive, albeit disfigured, to spread the word. He made sure that the vampire knew that he was no slayer though to them he offered them the same fate. He had whispered into the vamp's ear, the mask that covered most of his face garbling his words though they rang true enough. And the vamp had spread the word. 

            The Executioner had come and no demon would escape his wrath. 

            "He's dead, you know." Ulklan spun around as the flat voice of his pursuer carried to his ears. He snarled when his eyes focused on figure before him. 

            At first glance, Ulklan didn't see what was so deadly about the demon before him. He was not a giant as many had whispered. He stood about six feet tall and was covered in black. The mask that he wore stopped just below his eyes, shielding the rest of his face from view. On his left hip hung the crossbow that had fired the bolt that had killed MaKri while his shotgun was holstered comfortably against his right hip. Several knives and stakes populated his ankles and waist while, in his right hand was the silver katana that had cut through most of Ulklan's clan so effortlessly. 

            Ulklan stood slowly, the blood of his kin calling out for vengeance.  I will tear this demon's heart from his body and feast on it, the Miquot thought viciously right before he looked the stranger in the eyes.

            Even in the shrouded darkness of the jungle, Ulklan could see the red cores of the Executioner as they surveyed the Miquot with unsettling casualness. Though they didn't scream 'evil', those eyes did shout deadly and the trickle of fear that snaked down Ulklan's back was enough for the Miquot to know that the only way he was getting out of here alive was by killing the shadow before him. 

            Cocking his arms in front of him, Ulklan grunted as boned blades popped out of his forearms. In one motion, Ulklan spun and hurled the projectile at the man in black. 

            He saw it coming a mile away. Though Miquots were decent fighters, having to wait for one's weapon to pop out kind of took the surprise out of everything. Of course, he thought as the blade sailed past him as he rolled to the left, nicking him in the shoulder, they do have superb aim. 

            He was on his feet in an instant and brought the blade of his sword up just in time to deflect the second attack that would have impaled him through the eye. He smirked behind his mask at the mounting rage of the other demon before throwing out a snarky laugh. 

            "Please tell me you're gonna make it more interesting than this." He shrugged his shoulders, relishing in the tightness of his back and neck muscles. This was what he lived for now: the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of the kill and-sometimes-even the pain of wounds. He welcomed anything that would erase the agony of watching her die, to destroy the powerlessness he had felt as her life seeped from her veins as he held her. He had come here in search of power, so he would never feel helpless again. 

            "You will die, demon," the Miquot spat and charged the man in black. 

            The red-eyed man spun away from the slash of the Miquot's blades and countered by cutting across Ulklan's exposed belly. He finished with another spin that brought him behind the yellow-skinned demon and his blade sliced through the air, severing the Miquot's head from his body. 

            "That was too easy," the man in black chuckled and sheathed his sword in the scabbard strapped to his back as the now lifeless body of the demon fell to the ground in two separate pieces. 

            Running gloved fingers through his hair, the man in black headed back to the one place he saw as home. 

*&*

            Diohbin-Zi had never really understood the fascination humans had in games. Well, that wasn't entirely true. There were the gladiatorial spectacles of American football and boxing that always intrigued him. Games of the mind, such as chess also drew his interests though that was about it. 

            Now, as he stared over the seven stacks of cards, the Elwvenian knew that solitaire was not a game that he enjoyed. 

            "Bah," he spat and raked the cards from the table just as the door to the hut opened. 

            "Are the mean, nasty cards trying to give you a hard time, Master?" the man in black asked as he shut the door behind him. 

            Diohbin-Zi smiled at his protégé as the man removed the cowl that hid most of his face. He stroked his now free beard and walked over to the Elvvenian, taking a seat beside the old demon. 

            "How was your night?" Diohbin-Zi asked, patting his pupil's gloved hand. 

            "Not bad," he replied and set about removing the weapons strapped to him. "Wiped out a clan of Miquot demons and killed three vamps."

            "Injuries?" 

            "Few nicks here and there. Nothing serious." 

            "Good, good," Diohbin-Zi said and clasped his hands together before standing. He stared at the man who had become like a son to him and smiled sadly. "Your abilities have matured and just in time. They will need you soon." 

            "Well, I guess after three years of daily training, my skills would be matured by now," he said mirthfully but the humor died as he responded to his Master's second statement. "And as far as them needing me, don't think so. They've had enough time to forget about me. And her," the last part was whispered and only Diohbin-Zi's enhanced hearing allowed the Elwvenian to pick up the words. 

            He placed both hands on the young man's shoulders and he stared into the brown pupils whose core were no longer black but a mahogany red; a red that shone like the brightest star during battle. 

            "My son," Diohbin-Zi comforted, "they have not forgotten about you nor her. The one that you blame lives with the disgust she saw in your eyes before you left."

            "Good," he replied though his tone was not as convincing as it had been when he had first arrived. 

            "Is it?" The Master asked him. "Is it good for one so true, one who has already been through more than you could ever imagine to feel such pain? Is it good for one who will sacrifice all for those that she loves to see hatred in the eyes of one she had only met in her second chance with her family?" 

            "But it's her fault," he replied though there was no strength in her voice. Diohbin-Zi smiled sadly, sensing his protégé's desperate attempts to hold onto the hate. It was all he had left and, if he lost that, lost the hate, then he would never be able to live with the decision he had made to become the thing he had fought so valiantly against the last six years. 

            Knowing that he would not be able to help the brunette to answer such questions, Diohbin-Zi maneuvered the conversation to back to something his student had said. 

            "My dear boy," he quipped, his purplish red eyes staring into the brownish red of his protégé, "I have something to tell you and I do not think that you will be terribly impressed by it." 

            "What?" His thick eyebrows scrunched in concern, recognizing the mirth in his teacher's eyes that meant only one thing; he was not going to like what would float from the old man's mouth in the least. 

            "Well, it seems to me that your assumption as to the time frame we have been together is not quite accurate." 

            The laugh that escaped the younger man's lips was reactionary. "So, what are you saying? That I took a bump on the head, have really been here for ten years instead of three? Well, that would explain how quickly I have learned to fight."

            "Never could get anything past you, could I Alexander?"

            "I thought I asked you not to call me that, Master. And you mean I _have been here longer than three years?"_

            "Yes, you did ask me not to call you that, Alexander. As far as you being here longer than three years…well, that's not entirely accurate."

            "What do you mean 'not entirely accurate'?" Xander stood and glared down at the man who had taught him everything over the past three…well, it wasn't three years now, was it? How long had it been?

            "Decidedly less than three years," Diohbin-Zi replied amiably and Xander wasn't sure whether he had spoken the question aloud or not. 

            "Come now, Alexander. You know that I read minds, though I rarely take advantage of that useful ability. Kind of takes the surprise out of things, wouldn't you say." 

            "How long?" Xander repeated the question aloud this time. 

            "Don't you think you should sit down?" 

            "How long?" He spat and kneeled, grabbing the smaller being by the shoulders. 

            Diohbin-Zi looked to where Xander held him before staring the man in the eyes, waiting patiently for the younger man to get the hint. Xander immediately dropped his hands though the urgency still hung between them. "Please," the brunette croaked and the Elwvenian sighed. 

            "Fine. Fifty days." 

            "Huh?"

            "Try to pay attention, young man," Diohbin-Zi chastised and wriggled a gnarled finger at Xander. "I tell you, you people just can't seem to maintain focus on things. I mean…"

            "Did you say…fifty days?" 

            "Yes. Fifty days. Twelve hundred and nine hours. Seventy-two thousand five hundred and forty minutes. Want me to put it in seconds?" The Elwvenian snarked. 

            Xander tipped over and plopped down on his butt in shock. Fifty days. He had only been gone fifty days? Then why…"Why did it feel like three years then?" 

            "Think hyperbolic time chamber." On Xander's perplexed look, Diohbin-Zi threw his hands up in exasperation. "My God, man, do you think everything in your world is a product of a writer's imagination?!" 

            "Wha…?" 

            " You know exactly what I'm talking about, Alexander. Dragon Ball Z? The training chamber? Day goes by in reality but a year passes to those in the chamber. I saw it in your mind but hell, when the reception's good in this God-awful place, I watch it too." 

            "But how…?" Xander's red tinged brown eyes bugged out in disbelief. 

            "Look, Alexander," Diohbin-Zi's voice was calm and comforting and he patted the man's cheek. "I don't mean to be so flip with you but you have to get over it and fast. The skinny is that when you came to me, I saw the pain and anger within you yet also how lost you were and how much you wanted to help. Your loyalty to the slayer was, and still is, the thing that holds you together. But that wasn't the only reason I granted you your wish. I also foresaw the coming of the Angel of Death and knew that you would be needed to avert the End that he has planned for this world."

            "But…" Xander stuttered and was silenced by Diohbin-Zi's raised hand. 

            "No talk, you must listen. As you know, I am the last of my kind and, in that, I am more powerful that most beings that will ever walk this plane. But even I will be powerless to stop him. Only she can do that." 

            "She?" 

            "The one that you blame for you mate's death. The same one whose namesake will leave your lips in love, the one that will bring forth that which you have locked so tightly in here," he touched Xander's chest, "that part of you that even I cannot free."

            "What do you mean, Master? What are you saying?" It was too much and Xander felt himself lost to the confusion he had thought he would never experience again. 

            "There are certain dimensions that I am able to traverse to. The one that we went to, my native dimension actually, Elwvenin. Time there moves faster than it does here. I took you there because I knew you would be needed sooner than was physically possible to prepare you." 

            "I…I can't go back," Xander whispered and Diohbin-Zi's eyes softened at the turmoil he saw in his protégé's eyes. 

            "You must go back. They need you. The Key, the slayer, the witches, the vampire and the child. And others. Others that you know but will not expect to be there. You are the final piece of the puzzle, the furthest away. "

            "Master," Xander started but Diohbin-Zi waved his hand and the questions left the brunette's mind. The world drifted away and Xander felt his body lift off the ground for several seconds before the familiar softness of his bed was beneath him. 

            "Sleep my son," Diohbin-Zi whispered, "you will need it. Because once you are back, there will be no rest for you. Not until it is over." 

            A purple tear trailed down the immortal Elwvenian's cheek as he closed the door to Xander's room. He knew he would never see Xander again as his duty had been done. The weakest link to the chain had been strengthened though there were still chinks in the armor of the band of warriors. It was out of his hands now.  All Diohbin-Zi could hope for was that the one, the one who had once succumbed to the darkness could bring light to Xander's heart. 

            "Fare well, Alexander," Diohbin-Zi murmured into the empty room as he looked back towards the closed door. A pale blue light echoed through the room and Diohbin-Zi closed his eyes. "Maybe the Fates have it in the cards for us to meet again."

            The light brightened considerable for several seconds before dying down, leaving the room dark. 

            And empty. 

***Next chapter, _Slayer Dreams All Around _will give a clip of the remaining players in the coming Apocalypse. A certain ex-slayer has some interesting visions 

***Chapter 3 probably won't be up for at least 10 days. Not only do I have to work the details of it but I also want to have at least one, maybe 2 chapters of my other fic, _Do What You Have to Do _up. 

TBC…


	4. Slayer Dreams All Around

**__**

Severed Ties

Chapter 3

__

Slayer Dreams All Around

****

May 4th, 2002

3:22 a.m. 

_Pain. That was the first thing she noticed. Pure, unadulterated pain. It licked at the bare expanse of her legs, crawling past her thigh and burrowing into her gut. She wanted to scream but her mouth refused to open. Even so, clutching at the searing agony moving towards her heart, however fruitless, would have been something. But that, as well, was pointless. Her body was frozen in place and all she could do was take the pain with the frightening knowledge that this was just the beginning. _

"It will be your end," a voice whispered seductively in her ear. Unwelcome hands groped her body and tears streamed down her cheeks as the fingers violated her in every conceivable way. "Do not cry," the voice tried to soothe her though the malice behind its words was tangible. "I want you," she cried when something plunged into her core. Claws dug into her shoulders as another hand grabbed at her brunette locks roughly. As she screamed in her mind, she heard the voice above her laugh in her ear scornfully. 

"You wanted to be a hero," it seethed, "thought you could stop me. You may have banished me here but what for? To be mine for all eternity? I may suffer but you, dear Faith," he punctuated her name with a thrust that almost tore her in half, "will be mine forever. And no one will come to save you…" 

Faith screamed and her eyes bulged as her body was ripped in two. But as she took in what was before her eyes, she found that she was alone and the pain was gone. Glancing around her surroundings, Faith was surprised at the familiarity of it all. The modern designs, the coolness of the air…when she saw the chains near the door, she knew where she was. 

"Angel," she whispered, remembering this as his apartment. She had come to him more than once here, once to seduce and once to kill. She had failed both times, thanks to the blonde bombshell. Buffy. 

"She's not here now," a voice called behind her and Faith whirled around. A figure, cloaked in shadow, stared at her. He was tall with broad shoulders and was adorned in a leather tunic and pants, and boots that ended just below the knees. Around his shoulders was a cape that alternated between snaking its way around his legs to billowing out behind him. His hands were clasped behind his back and though his face remained shadowed, Faith could almost feel the twisted smile and she shuddered. 

"Who are you?" she asked and crouched in a defensive stance. 

"Why Faith," the figure's voice remarked condescendingly, "you don't remember my voice? I am deeply hurt." 

Faith's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. The voice did sound eerily familiar, just like the apartment had and, come to think of it, the figure standing in the shadows. 

"Angel?" She whispered and took two steps towards the darkness where the figure loomed. 

The figure cocked his head to the side and Faith closed the distance even further. She was only a handful of steps away when he stepped out of the light. 

Eyes that she had once remembered as deeply brown, were crimson twinkles that gleamed at her with an evil she would never have thought existed. 

"Angel?" Faith instinctively took a step back but the figure's hand shot out, freezing her in place. 

"Angel?" He mimicked her, his voice a twisted mixture of someone close to her and something evil—something beyond evil. "Sorry, baby, but I don't go by that name anymore. Never really did like it. William was right, quite a poof name that was." 

The fear that trickled down her spine now flooded through her veins and Faith couldn't keep her voice from shaking when she realized who it was. "Angelus." 

"Please," he scoffed. "Angelus? Don't make me laugh." His hand traced the air, outlining the curves of her body as if he was touching her and with each ministration of her hand, Faith felt her blood being pulled in that direction. It was very uncomfortable yet had not reached the painful stage. 

"No, baby, Angelus I'm not. And when I'm done with you, spending eternity with M'shi-Dar will be the least of your worries." And with no more preambles, the figure squeezed his hand into a fist and Faith screamed as she felt her heart crushed as if it was nothing more than a wad of paper. 

As blackness overtook her, she heard the mocking voice call to her. "I wield the Sword of Justice—not Michael nor the Macedonian Conqueror who thinks he is more. He will not be able to help you. Take comfort that you will die together…you all will…" 

Faith bolted up, her face twisted in silent agony. Her breaths came in jagged gasps as her left hand clutched her chest desperately as her mind relived the final images of her nightmare. 

_Slayer dream, _the lucid part of her mind observed. Faith shook her head and slid a shaky hand through her sweaty locks. _Check that¸_ she thought wryly, _sweaty everything. _She threw the covers aside and swung her legs out of bed, gasping in relief when her bare feet touched the cold floor. She took a few more steadying breaths before trusting that her legs would remain strong underneath her. 

After a few minutes, satisfied that she was strong enough, Faith crept over to the sink. She splashed a few handfuls of water on her face, mindful of her sleeping cellmate. She held her hand out in front of the window, the moon giving her enough light to make out her still shaking limb. 

"At least it's not as bad as before," she smiled tiredly. The dreams had first come last month and, at first had only been every few days and she had never recalled the images shown to her. But they had come every night for the past week in perfect clarity. The first time she had cried for an hour, burrowing herself into the corner of her cell, wrapped in her blanket. Now, after six days, she had steeled herself somewhat from the horrors that would come to her now and had come to her in some former life. It still frightened her to no end but she could deal with it now. 

The thing that she couldn't deal with, however, was the meaning behind the images. Who was the figure that violated her so horribly in the beginning of the dreams? Why was Angel--at least she thought it was Angel--so cryptic and why, in the end, did he kill her? Faith sighed. She knew she would never be able to interpret it herself and the tingling at the base of her skull and in her gut told the brunette slayer that she didn't have that much time before what she saw came to be. 

Faith walked back to the bed and situated herself under the covers. Her eyes remained open, staring at the bunk above her. She was exhausted but knew that it would be awhile before sleep would come. But her mind was not idle and instead she focused on the problem at hand. Something was going down in the near future--something that she would be needed for. And though she had not had a vision about it, Faith also knew that something had happened to Buffy. She knew her sister slayer wasn't dead but she did know that Buffy would need her help. 

_If she doesn't kill me first, _Faith thought. No, Buffy wouldn't do that. She wasn't like Faith used to be. _Well, the old me, at least. I've changed. And it's high time I've showed them that._

Faith rolled to her side, concealing a smile as a plan formulated in her head. She was still paying her dues here in prison but, at the same time, she was needed elsewhere. It didn't take long for her to make a decision. 

Sunnydale was calling to her with her new chance at redemption and she wasn't going to ignore it. 

Even if the nightlife there did suck. __

*&*

**__**

5:42 a.m. 

_The bright sun was the first thing that Buffy noticed. After being in…well, she didn't exactly know where she had been—but the point was, the light shining in her eyes was her first sensory intake in, well, a long time. She squinted, shielding her eyes as best she could in order to take a look at her surroundings. _

She was in the alley outside the Magic Box. The first place she had told someone that she had been at peace when she died. No, not just someone. Spike. He had been trying to comfort her because he, like the others, had thought she had been tormented in hell. Though she didn't see his face when she told him, the air around them had changed and he had been so still. If she hadn't known any better, she would have thought that she was alone. Well, that was how she felt whenever he wasn't around. Alone. 

"You're not alone, pet," Buffy whirled around and saw her lover before her, bathed in sunlight. 

"Spike, you're, you're…" 

"Not a big pile o' dust?" He smirked and squinted up at the sun. " 'S quite a pleasant surprise if I do say so myself," he said and sauntered toward her. Buffy's breath was caught in her chest as he made his way forward. He stopped less than a foot in front of her and inhaled deeply, relishing in her scent. "And if I do say, luv, you are quite a sight." A low growl emanated from deep within his chest and Buffy gasped, painfully aware of the throbbing desire burgeoning in her loins. She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths to gain her composure. Satisfied that she was reasonably under control, Buffy opened her eyes, a wry grin pasted on her face. The grin faltered when she stared at the spot Spike was. 

Or where he used to be.

"Spike?" Buffy called and turned in a circle, searching for the blonde vampire. He was nowhere to be found and, after a few minutes delegation, Buffy walked to the back door of the Magic Box. She was surprised when it opened before she reached her hand out. She cautiously entered the store, her senses at maximum alert. 

Once inside, the door slammed shut behind her and Buffy gave a cursory look over her shoulder before turning back towards the inside of the store. 

"What the hell?" She asked as she stared at her new surroundings. What had been, on her first glimpse, the Magic Box, now bore more resemblance to the underbelly of Spike's crypt. Come to think of it…

"Spike!" She heard someone yell and tensed. The voice was female and decidedly foreign. It wasn't the yell that had her tense rather the obvious tone of pleasure that coated the female's call of Spike. 

Buffy followed the cavernous paths; one hand trailing along the cool stone walls to keep her balance as the other woman's grunts and groans urged Buffy on. With each step, the slayer's stomach tightened and her throat constricted in fear of what she would see. After a handful of minutes, she came across a door that was half cracked. The noises had escalated into a cacophonous frenzy that took the slayer's breath away. The sweet musk of sex drifted through the partial opening and Buffy coughed involuntarily. She raised a shaking hand towards the door and brushed her fingertips against the splintered wood. 

Just as she began pushing the door open, she heard it. His voice. "That's it, luv, right there, baby. You know how I like it." Even the thought of Spike with someone else had always made Buffy uneasy and that had been even before she had died. Of course, she had never admitted it to anyone and doubted she ever would. But now, now that she loved him and that he knew—well, the thought of him with someone else had never crossed her mind. She knew he would never do that, regardless of his vampiric nature, Buffy knew Spike would always be true to her. 

"Don't stop!" He bellowed and Buffy coughed up a sob. The pain in her chest was unlike anything she had ever felt and she wanted nothing more than to run. But, like an accident on the highway, her eyes had to see. So, she pushed the door open as the tears cascaded down her cheeks and her eyes rested upon the two figures on the bed. 

Her bed. 

"Well, well, well," the woman chirped, never losing her rhythm as she rode the blonde vampire hard and fast. "If it isn't Lil' Miss Dimpled Knees herself. Enjoying the show?" The woman's nails raked across Spike's chest and rivulets of blood seeped to the surface. Spike cried out as her tongue flicked across the slashes, lapping up the blood. 

Buffy wanted nothing more than to turn away, to run far into a corner and hide but her eyes were riveted to the small woman atop of Spike. 

"Likin' what you see?" She taunted, squeezing her ample breasts. Every curve of the woman was burned into Buffy's mind, from her multi-dyed hair color to her powerful thighs that held Spike in place and her taut belly that he rubbed his hand across. 

"You are magnificent," he whispered though Buffy heard it clearly enough. "I've never had a woman so perfect. One that could satisfy me like you do, pet. All the others," Spike glared pointedly at Buffy, "are good for nothing more than a quick turn in the hay."

Buffy collapsed to her knees, unable to take the scornful words or disdainful smirk Spike shot her way. The woman threw her head back and laughed at the slayer's obvious pain. Buffy was barely aware of the tattoos on the woman's back; tattoos that seemed to have a life of their own. The slayer part of her saw this but the woman part of her could only stare at her lover's infidelity as he and the other woman resumed their furious pace of sexual pleasure. 

"No," Buffy whispered as her eyes took in the scene before her. "God, no." 

"Buffy," someone called and tapped the slayer on the shoulder. But Buffy was too lost in her grief to notice anything else. Not until her view was blocked of the two lovers did she register that there was a fourth party in the room. 

"Buffy," the figure said and when he bent down to face her, Buffy was stunned. 

"Spike?" She stared at the platinum blonde in front of her in confusion. 

"It's me, luv," he smiled and traced the back of his hand across her cheek. Buffy let herself get lost in the coolness of his flesh until she heard him scream in pleasure. Smacking his hand away, she stood, her face contorted in agony as she saw him still on the bed and the other woman on top of him. 

"Stay away from me," she said to the one that had touched her. Spike stood, oblivious to the scene unfolding behind him, and approached Buffy. 

"You know it's me, luv. That," he pointed behind him, "is not me." 

"Well it sure does look like it," she replied dryly. 

"Buffy, I love you. Always have and I always will. You know I would never willingly hurt you." 

"But you are," she put her hand to her face to stifle another sob. 

"Buffy," Spike pled and was only inches away from her. He slowly raised his hands to her and grasped her by the shoulders. His touch was gentle yet firm. He stared into her hazel orbs, so full of pain and summoned all the love he felt for her and let his eyes tell her everything. 

It didn't take long for Buffy to see the truth and she melted into his embrace. Loud, violent sobs wracked her body as Spike held her, whispering words of love and assurance as he stroked her hair. 

"But…but why?" she asked after several minutes. The noise in the background had ceased and when she sneaked a glance towards the bed, the other Spike was watching her intently as the woman nuzzled his neck. 

"Buffy, everything is not always as it seems." 

"Don't listen to him," bed-Spike shouted. "It is as it seems. You're not worth a second…" 

"Things happen, luv," her Spike interrupted. "Things that you always can't help."

"Like he couldn't help but want to fuck me," the woman purred as her hands ran up and down bed-Spike's chest. Buffy's attention was drawn back towards the bed and she felt the tears start anew before Spike stepped in front of her. Her Spike. 

"Buffy, I love you more than anything in this world. And I know--I know…" 

"I love you," she finished and her gaze dropped. Spike cupped her cheek and forced her to look at him, her brilliant hazel eyes filled with tears. 

"Buffy…" 

"I knew I shouldn't have. I knew this would happen. 'Buffy Summers loves you, now let's see how much I can hurt her'," she choked out. "I knew I should have never loved you. Knew I should have never told you." She looked up at him and saw the fury behind his calm façade and flinched, awaiting for the words that would finally kill her. 

"Do you love me?" He asked and she saw his lip quiver. 

"Spike--"

"Do. You. Love. Me?"

"Yes." 

"Then trust me Buffy," he said, sighing. "Trust that I would never willingly hurt you."

" 'Willingly'?" She asked, fear once more returning to her belly. 

"Buffy, I wish I could say I'll never hurt you, but you know better than that." 

"Because you're a vampire," she said dejectedly. 

"No. Not because I'm a bleedin' vampire. Because I love you," he bellowed the last part and Buffy jumped at the vehemence of his words. Spike sighed and tempered his voice. "Buffy, understand that people who love each other do hurt one another. Hell, it's easier to be hurt by someone you're in love with than someone you're not. I'm a stupid git, you already know that," he said and they both chuckled. "I'm bound to say or do something that'll hurt you. And I know you'll do the same." He got down on one knee and Buffy gasped at the gesture. 

"But I do know that I will never betray you. But a time will come where you will have to decide how much you trust me. Even though you say you trust me, you still don't."

She opened her mouth to argue the point but stopped, knowing that he was right. Although a part of her did trust him as a lover and friend to Dawn and the Scoobies, another part of her, the slayer part was not so trusting. She studied him, her eyes filled with remorse at not trusting him all the way. She wanted to apologize, to make it up to him but didn't know how. All she could do was see him through this. "But--but how will I know?" 

Spike stood gracefully and offered her a weary smile. "It's simple. When you put your life in my hands, you will either trust me," he morphed into his demonic visage, "or I will die." And with that, Spike burst into dust before her eyes. 

"Spike!" She yelled and brought her hands to her face only to see the stake she held in her hand. The same stake that had dusted her Spike. 

"Looks like you did it again, luv," bed-Spike taunted. "Sent another lover to hell. Quite impressive if I do say so myself." He stood up and walked over to the nearly catatonic slayer. 

"When will you learn?" he asked condescendingly. "You are nothing. You are not worthy to love and never will be. Peaches never loved you and I sure as hell didn't. Face it. You will always be alone." 

"And I will always have him," the woman said as she wrapped her arms around bed-Spike's waist. "And you, ha, you will have nothing." 

Spike had stayed by Buffy's side for the last four hours. He knew he had to leave soon as the sunrise was fifteen minutes away. He stood and took in the frail form of his love. Buffy looked so small lying there, IV's stuck in her arms. There was nothing of the powerful, unstoppable woman he had fallen in love with. In its place was a shell, a husk of his Buffy. He ran his fingers through her thinning hair. This was not the real Buffy. 

Yet, despite that, he loved her all the same. Leaning over, he brushed his lips across hers as his thumb stroked her cheek. 

"I love you, Buffy," he whispered. "I will always love you. You have to hurry and get better. Dawnie and the Bitlet need you. So do the Wiccas and the Watcher. Hell, even demon…" Spike stopped in mid-sentence, almost forgetting that Anya was no longer alive and that Xander was missing. He swallowed the tears that wanted to emerge at the loss and re-focused on Buffy. 

"I need you, luv. I need you more 'an blood. Hurry, luv," he whispered and tore out of the room in a whirl of leather before the tears overpowered him. 

So lost in his grief and desire to get away, Spike never heard the cough of the unconscious slayer nor the one word that fell from her lips as she climbed closer towards the surface of consciousness. 

"Spike…" 

*&*

**__**

5:59 a.m.

__

Faith walked through the grass field with her parents on either side of her. The three of them walked arm in arm, content. They had just finished up a family picnic during sunset. Now, they would watch the stars and talk with one another before it was time for patrol 

"You know what they say," Buffy said, breaking the comfortable silence. 

"The family that slays together, stays together," Faith quipped. She squealed when Spike's finger poked her in the ribs. 

"Did I do that?" he asked innocently. 

"Yeah, you did," she said, rolling her eyes and bumping him with her hip. 

"So, luv," Spike said, addressing Buffy, "what is it that they say?" 

"'Death is the only inescapable, unavoidable, sure thing. We are sentenced to die the day we're born'."

"What does that mean?" Faith asked and was surprised when Buffy and Spike walked away from her. "Mum? Daddy?" 

Slayer and vampire huddled together and Faith stifled a laugh. They looked over something and she was reminded of a time long ago where she and her Mum would huddle up like that before sneaking in on a sleeping Spike. Buffy would hoist Faith in the air and drop her right on Spike's chest. Then, he would tickle her until Buffy came to the rescue and then all three of them would roll around in bed, laughing and tickling, tickling and laughing. It had been so long since the three of them had been together and Faith missed that. Wanting to feel that closeness again, Faith walked over to her parents and touched them on the shoulder. Their backs remained turned to her and she frowned in annoyance. Instead of calling out to them, she walked around them to get their attention. She never expected to see what was before her. 

Buffy was dressed in a purple dress that ordinarily would have hugged her curves. Now, however, it only accentuated her bulging stomach. Spike stared at her belly in wonder as they both touched and rubbed it. 

"It's beautiful, luv," Spike said and Faith heard the tears of joy in his voice. 

"I know. She's mine." She trained her gaze lovingly at Spike. "And yours." They traded smiles and, despite being ignored, Faith was happy to see her parents so connected. 

An earsplitting scream drew her attention away from her parents and Faith spun around, ready to fight. The once clear horizon had transformed into a blanket of crimson. Thunder barked in the distance and the lightning in front of her sped closer, propelled by some unnatural wind that she could not feel. Her eyes widened in fear and a column of fire blazed up her spine. 

"Mum. Daddy. We have to," she turned towards her parents and screamed at the scene before her. 

There he stood, the fallen Angel, his face shrouded in a black cowl. At his feet were a single stake and a scattering pile of dust. She didn't have to be told, didn't have to see to know who it was…

"Daddy," Faith whispered and fell to her knees. It was the second time he had died and she had not been able to stop it either time. 

"She did it," he said, matter-of-factly, nodding to the unconscious Buffy he held by the neck. His free hand caressed her stomach lovingly. "She didn't trust him enough. Never did. It's a wonder you were ever born." With that, he slammed his hand into Buffy's stomach, ripping out the unborn fetus. 

Faith was lost as her screams ripped the flesh from her throat. Her heart hammered in her chest as blood seeped from her lips and ears. The man in front of her smiled before sinking his fangs into the infant. Faith's screams rose even higher as she watched the fallen Angel feed from Buffy's unborn child. Her screams stopped when a wooden pike tore through her enemy's heart. He dropped the baby and fell to his knees. He smiled at her, blood coating his lips before crashing to his face. 

"It's not enough," a familiar voice said and Faith looked up at the stranger who had skewered that monster. He gestured to the fallen body before stepping out of the shadows. "It will never be enough, Faith." He sighed before turning his eyes to her. Though his face was not recognizable, his eyes were. Though she had never seen them before this color, she knew. 

"Seth." 

He smiled sheepishly before responding. "Not as you knew him. But who I am doesn't matter. What matters is that I will be there for her. But even with me, even as much as I love her and will come back for her, her strength, their strength-- it will never be enough." He backed into the darkness and his words echoed in Faith's damaged ears. 

"Carpe diem, quam minimum credulo postero. Only you, Faith. Only you…" 

Faith was startled awake, her heart and breathing erratic. Her white nightie clung to her, thanks to the sweat that now covered her skin. She sat up and looked at the young woman next to her. Dawn was sound asleep with a look of peace etched across her face. 

Despite the lingering dread lodged in her chest, Faith smiled at her aunt. Even when Faith was a child, Dawn had always slept like the dead. Between her and Spike watching Faith as a two year old, Buffy had come home many times with the house all but destroyed. Of course, Spike always took the brunt of the slayer's ire. 

At the thought of her father, Faith cringed at the all too familiar reminder that her dream gave her of Spike once again being dusted. She bit her lip as the first tear made itself known. Even though she knew it was only a dream, it felt so real. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that it was indeed a slayer dream. And being prophetic in nature, slayer dreams often had a habit of coming true. 

"I have to see him," she whispered to herself and climbed out of bed. "Just to make sure he's all right." 

Using her slayer stealth, Faith crept through the house. When she got downstairs, she glanced out the window, noticing that the sun was close to breaking over the horizon. She made her way to the basement, now keenly aware that Spike was in bed even without seeing him. She stopped at the bottom step, staring anxiously at the still form of her father. One arm was draped across his eyes and the other arm was spread over the other half of the bed. 

He looked so drained and Faith knew why. He had just come from seeing Buffy. Another tear escaped her eye as the pain of her mother not here reasserted herself. She put her fist to her mouth and bit down, hoping the physical pain would obliterate the emotional knives from burrowing any deeper. She had to be strong, for him. This past month, despite Spike's resolve to be stalwart for the others, Faith had seen him slowly breaking down. Although crying in front of her the other day may have released some of the emotional baggage he was carrying, it wasn't enough and Faith knew that the only thing that would make him better would be Buffy actually waking up. 

She didn't know how long she watched him, silently debating whether to leave or lay next to him. That decision was taken out of her hands when he raised his left arm ever so slightly and beckoned her over to him. 

Faith nodded instinctively before making her way over towards him. She drew the covers back and sidled in next to him. She used her right arm as a pillow and flung her left across his torso. Just the feel of his cool body next to him relaxed Faith more than any words ever could and she acquiesced to the sleep's call. 

Spike's free arm curled around his petite daughter, in so many ways like Buffy. He smiled as he inhaled the natural scent of his Bitlet, one of the many reminders that tied her with her mother. He sighed and stared at the ceiling, content in listening to Faith's breathing even out and her heartbeat steady before she dropped off into unconsciousness. 

"I love you, Faith," he whispered into her hair before settling back down. It wasn't long before he joined her in sleep and they both slept soundly. The nightmares they had seen for the last month were banished from their minds as they took comfort in the presence of family. 

TBC…


	5. Gatherings

****

A/N 1: The name and nature of Morrigann is taken from the Morigan in the game Marvel vs. Capcom and Darkstalkers. She is the property of Capcom. 

****

A/N 2: The name Algolagniar is a derivative I made up from the word _algolagnia. _It means love of pain and is a term used in S&M circles. 

__

Severed Ties

Chapter 4

**__**

Gatherings 

**__**

May 11th, 2002

9:08 a.m. 

They never heard him coming. 

The bulbous laughter of the four, no, five people wafted down to his ears. They were carefree in their joy, not taking into account that other creatures, things of the night were just a stone's throw away. They had become complacent in their exuberance and he knew that even the slayer did not hear his approach. 

He advanced slowly; mindful of the rickety structure that could, at any time, give him away as he silently crept up the stairs. Stopping at the door, he expanded his senses, taking in every physical aspect of his prey. They were strong, all of them. Their blood sung to him and his demon demanded that he lose himself in it all; that he revel in their shock and surprise as he sprung from his hiding place and into their midst. 

The clank of a pan brought the predator back to the present and he growled at the added noise. It had been their carelessness that had brought them to his attention. And it would be that same thoughtlessness that would bring his wrath upon them. 

"What in the bloody hell are you people doing?" Spike bellowed as he flung open the basement door. Everyone in the room jumped, Willow and Dawn squealed while Faith's first instinct had been to grab the closest weapon at hand—that being the spatula. When she saw the culprit, she slapped her hands to her hips. 

"Daddy," she growled, "what is your malfunction?" 

" 'My malfunction'," he repeated, complete with air quotes, "is you people's inability to complete a simple task such as preparing breakfast without it sounding like it's bleedin' Normandy Invasion."

"Normandy?" Dawn asked, the annoyance clear in her tone. 

"D-Day," Willow replied, her hand still resting on her chest, trying to calm her still pounding heart. 

"Thanks for the history lesson, Mr. Older-Than-Time," his daughter grumbled as she turned her attention back to the stove. 

"So-sorry if we wo-woke you," Tara stammered as she, too, calmed her nerves. 

At the Wicca's heartfelt apology, Spike softened noticeably and treated her to a rare smile. " 'S all right, Glinda. Know you and Red weren't the culprits," he said and looked pointedly at the oblivious Summers' girls chatting at the stove. 

"Am I to assume, then," Giles finally spoke, "that in light of me being omitted from your good graces that I, too, am being held accountable from waking you?" Spike cocked an eyebrow at his fellow Brit. 

"Considerin' that you are the authority figure here, Rupes, the least you could do would be to quiet these two terrors down," Spike said, addressing Dawn and Faith and they both responded with stuck out tongues. 

"Right, of course. Heaven forbid they take responsibility for their own actions." 

"What do you expect, Giles?" Dawn said and smirked. "It's the twenty-first century. It's always someone else's fault. 

"So, you lot are up early," the vampire said, observing that it was a little after nine. He walked into the kitchen and Faith reflexively closed the curtain over the sink.

"Yup," the slayer responded as she leaned into her father's hug, "we're going to the beach." 

"The beach?" 

"Yep," Willow said, breaking out into a grin. "We thought we needed a break. Tara hasn't gotten out to much since rehab and everything and what better way to get all the kinkly winklies out than a nice sunny day at the beach." 

"Besides," Dawn said as she chomped on a piece of bacon, "what better way to meet guys than…"

"Sun," Faith interjected and gave Dawn a withering glare. "We're going to get some sun. I mean, no offense Daddy, but with the exception of Dawnie here, we're all giving you a good run for 'Best Marble Statue Complexion'."

"Thank you ever so, Bitlet," he said and hopped on the island but not before stealing a sausage from Willow's plate. "Of course," he said as he meticulously chewed on the pattie, "there was that bit about the guys that I thought I heard." 

"What are you talking about?" Dawn laughed. "Guys? No, this is only girls night, er, day out." 

"That's good to know. But that doesn't mean that…" 

"Oh give it a rest, Daddy," Faith said in exasperation. "It's our day at the beach. We're going with Willow and Tara. Now, as all beaches go, there will be guys there. But we are only looking at the merchandise. God, even I wanted to do more than look, I am twenty-three." 

"In your time, let," Spike responded. Faith cringed when she noticed how calmly her father had reacted to her tantrum. She sighed, knowing from her mother how sensitive Spike could be and by the change in his body language, she had hurt his feelings. 

"So, Rupes," Spike said, cutting off any attempts of Faith's apology. "Guess we're stuck together, ey?"

"Hurray for me," Giles responded dryly as he sipped from his teacup. 

"Now, now, Giles," Willow interjected, "now would be a perfect time for you guys to do the bondage thing." Both men looked at the redhead with some trepidation. "Oh, God," she stuttered. "Not _bondage_ handcuffs and whips and chains or anything like that." On Spike's bemused smirk, she backtracked. "I mean it's not like I know about that or watch Real Sex or anything kinky like that. I mean, come on, who would watch that stuff. Hello, sluttiness is not I. Not that watching Real Sex makes you a slut or anything like that…"

"But I thought you said that you liked…" 

"What Willow is trying to say," Tara said, coming to the rescue of her lover, "is that you two could use this time to talk about…things." 

"Thanks, Glinda, but I think me and the Watcher did enough male bonding when I was chained to his tub." 

"Chains, huh?" Faith said and walked over to Spike. "Seems like you two already have a head start on the good American bondage thing, don't you?" She smiled apologetically at her father and was pleased when he returned it with a forgiving wink. 

"As wonderful and hilarious as these images may be to you, I beg you to stop," Giles muttered. 

"So-sorry, Giles," Willow said. 

"So, who's the transportation? The Watcher?" 

"No," Dawn replied, "we're gonna cram into Tara's clown mobile."

"Thanks a lot, Dawnie," Tara said and rolled her eyes. Everyone laughed at the blonde's terse reply before Willow stood. 

"Speaking of which, I'm gonna take everything to the car. Dawnie, come and help me stuff everything into the 'Clown mobile'." 

Dawn moved to protest but one look at the patented resolve face had the teen stomping out the kitchen, grumbling about being the youngest and resorted to as slave labor. 

"So, Bitlet," Spike said, hopping off the island and taking Willow's now vacated seat. "Did you have that sassy an attitude in your formative years?" He nodded towards Dawn's exit. 

"Sassy?" She said and helped Tara up. "Who said I ever lost my sassiness?" She punctuated it by thumping him in the ear with her finger before leading a giggling Tara out into the living room. 

"Kids these days," Spike said, shaking his head. He took Willow and Tara's plates to the sink, disappointed by the lack of food on them. 

"By the way, Daddy," Faith said as she poked her head back into the kitchen, "your bloods already in the microwave but you do need to heat it up. And you and Giles can share the omelet in the pan." 

"Thanks, 'let." Spike gave her a genuine smile before she blew him a kiss and called out their departure. 

Spike slapped the omelet on a plate and turned on the microwave to the programmed time he had put in to heat his blood just right. He heard the door slam shut just as the timer went off. Plate and mug in hand, the vampire walked back to the table and sat down. He tore into the omelet, sometimes dipping a forkful into the blood. He felt the other man's eyes on him, studying him in revulsion but Spike concentrated on his food. 

"I must say," Giles said after a few minutes, "that shall I ever desire to lose weight, all I really need to do is watch you partake in your rather unusual subsistence as far as food's concerned." 

"Why Ripper," Spike said sweetly, mouth full of eggs, "was that a compliment." 

"Hardly," the other man muttered and turned his attention back towards the newspaper. 

They sat in silence for several more minutes, until Spike was finished and returned to the sink. 

Giles watched in interest as the vampire washed the dishes, mindful to stay out of the way of stray splashes of sunlight, of course. He moved around the kitchen with a disturbing familiarity, like he had always lived here. True, it had been over a month since he had moved in and there was last summer when Buffy was--gone--but this, this was something else. Something the Watcher had talked to Buffy about but not to Spike. As much as he accepted that Buffy did love the vampire, Giles had yet to do the customary 'hurt her and you're dust' speech. _Well, _he thought tiredly, _now is as good of a time as any. _

"Spike," he said and removed his glasses. The vampire turned around and arched a scarred eyebrow at the seriousness of the Watcher's tone. He opened his mouth to say something smart but decided against it. No, it was about time that he and Rupert had a serious talk. Hell, it wasn't like there was anything better to do. 

He sauntered over to the table, drying his hands on his pant legs before sitting down in the chair. He slouched down, one arm over the back of it, legs splayed in front of him. Although he knew the importance of the talk, there was still the image he had to keep up. 

"So, Rupes," he said, feigning disinterest, "get to talkin'." 

Despite it all, Giles couldn't contain his smile. He had known Spike for three years, more or less, and he was amazed at the little things the vampire did to retain his image. The Watcher could see that, despite his airs, the blonde wanted this long overdue talk just as much as Giles did. Of course, Spike would never admit that in a hundred years but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that the vampire was receptive when the situation called for. 

And if nothing else, Giles was thankful for at least that much. 

*&*

**__**

Future Time 

Oh, was he ever thankful for the power around him. 

Gabriel stared out at his five lieutenants with pride. They had been in his presence for the past three months. Once he had felt his Childe, Seth fade, Gabriel had recalled them from all the corners of the world. He needed them now more than ever, especially since Emerald had disappeared before his eyes. 

Emerald. 

Gabriel cursed and bolted to his feet, the anger of losing his two greatest assets mere minutes apart caused his demon to bubble to the surface. The anger was not only that he lost them both but because he didn't know _how _he lost them. Emerald had vanished into the air, her body dissipating as if she was being erased from existence. And Seth. Seth had been wiped away as well. He hadn't been dusted, that much Gabriel knew. But what had happened, the way Seth's energy remained yet drastically altered drove the vampire mad. 

Shaking his thoughts away, Gabriel scanned the ritual circle and the five participants with glowing red eyes, his breaths, however unnecessary, coming in jagged puffs. 

"Is it ready?" He snarled to the twin portal rippers, M'ul Aut and D'bahn. 

"Yes, my Lord," they responded simultaneously. Aside from Emerald and Gabriel, the last two Zidiahni demons were the only entities that could open fissures through time. Though they had questioned one another as to why Gabriel himself had not opened the fissure, they dared not ask him, especially with his mood the way it had been the past few months since Emerald's disappearance.

"Then do it!" Gabriel snapped. The two brothers nodded solemnly and walked to the center of the circle. D'bahn clasped his brother's left hand with his right. The power surged between them and both stiffened as the current traveled through their blood. D'bahn lifted his left hand into the air and the air became heavy with the twins' energies. Thunder crackled overhead as the sky darkened before the first signs of lightening licked through the clouds. 

Gabriel watched the display, allowing it to mute the rage that had continued to build within him over the past three months. He smiled grimly, reveling in the joy he would have in slaughtering those that had dared challenge him. He would bathe in their blood, plunder their organs from their bodies before allowing them to die slowly. 

His bloodlust was interrupted when a cord of lightening from the west slammed into D'bahn's outstretched hand. The Zidiahni screamed, though Gabriel knew that is was not out of pain. A second cord from the east joined the first. Ten seconds later, D'bahn's hand shook from the inundation of lightening energy from at least a dozen patches in the sky. A brilliant light crept from M'ul Aut's unseeing eyes and his chiseled jaw opened in a silent scream. At that moment, D'bahn dropped to his knees and slammed the palm of his hand into the ground. 

The other four spectators struggled to keep their balanced and Gabriel stared at the twins in awe. He had always known they had had power beyond most but to see it firsthand was quite a treat. Maybe even with a century of training, they could possibly rival him in raw power. Of course, they weren't immortal, so it didn't matter. 

"They are quite powerful, Lord," Morrigann whispered into Gabriel's ear. He turned towards her and leered at the succubus. She had been the first of his followers to return, offering herself to Gabriel and he had accepted. He had taken out all his anger, frustrations out on her, using her body in the most carnal of ways, and she had never complained. Of course, being a succubus, as long as she was being pleasured, Morrigann would never complain. 

Gabriel ran a hand down the other vampire's naked back. The outline of her wings, tattooed across her back, rippled underneath her flesh at his touch and Morrigann purred in time with the ministrations as she worked herself closer to a sexual frenzy. 

Their attention was pulled back to the center of the circle when a spherical shape appeared in from of the Zidiahni. It throbbed with energy and expanded slowly before exploding into a brilliant hue of purple and gold. 

Morrigann held onto Gabriel's arm as an energetic wind swept through the area, knocking everyone but Gabriel and one other to their knees. 

The vampire smiled across the circle at the one being that had remained on his feet. 

Algolagniar. 

"Master," the creature bowed as Gabriel stopped in front of the eight-foot giant. 

"Algolagniar," Gabriel said and laid his hand on the demon's shoulder, despite the pain that radiated through his body at the simple touch. Three years after he had returned from Quortoth, Gabriel had opened up another gate to hell dimension for the specific task of extracting this unidentified demon that fed on the pain of others and even himself. Even skin-to-skin contact with the demon was enough to drive most mad. Only other demons and quite possibly a slayer could withstand Algolagniar's touch without being rendered unconscious. Being that pain was his weapon and his body's density was greater than most creatures, Algolagniar was an almost indestructible force. Never had he been beaten in battle save for the time he had been pummeled by Seth. Still, who better to send in first than him? 

"You know what to do when you arrive." It was not a question. 

"Aye." 

"Destroy anyone and anything that crosses your path, man or demon. But whatever you do, leave the slayers to me. I owe them." The last part was whispered with such vehemence that even the emotionless Frost, who kneeled away from the rest, shivered. 

"Yes, My Lord," Algolagniar assented. Gabriel removed his arm from the demon's shoulder, forcing the pain from his mind as he watched the behemoth walk towards the fissure. The brightness faded and was replaced by a darkness that pulled at the gigantic demon as he walked towards the portal, unfazed by the pull of the energies on him. When he made contact with the portal, it buckled before slowly wrapping around him, its gelatinous surface engulfing him little by little until he was gone. 

As soon as Algolagniar disappeared through the portal, it collapsed in on itself, fading into nothingness. 

"It is done," Gabriel said to no one in particular. His eyes scanned the other four demons. The two Zidiahni helped one another to their feet and Frost, apart from the others per his usual, stood unmoving, the hilt of his giant sword peeking out from over his shoulder. Finally, the vampire's gaze turned towards the scantily clad succubus and he felt himself harden underneath the leather of his pants. 

"Do what must be done," he said but never took his eyes off of Morrigann. She returned his lustful gaze with equal fervor as her forked tongued licked her succulent lips. "We shall meet back here again in one month. That should give me time to garner the energy needed to transport the five of us through the portal." He turned to the twins. 

"D'bahn, M'ul Aut. You have done well for me. You shall be rewarded well." The two demons nodded and walked off towards the city at Gabriel's nod of dismissal. 

"Frost," Gabriel said and received a curt bow from the hybrid demon before he disappeared into a wisp of smoke. 

"I'll never get over how he does that," Morrigann quipped. She glared at where Frost had been with a lust that rivaled what she felt for Gabriel. She had never truly been able to sample the human/demon hybrid as he was aloof and rarely socialized with the others. His only thought was the joy of battle, not the lust or torture that the others reveled in. And that in itself was enough for Morrigann's curiosity and desire to take him as a lover. 

"Why Morrigann," Gabriel drawled and ran his knuckles down the bare flesh of her arms, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think you wanted him more than me." 

Morrigann smiled before her elongated tongue lapped at Gabriel's neck. He shivered in anticipation at the prospect of sheathing himself again in her warmth. How a vampire could generate heat like she did, Gabriel never knew. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she did.

"And this from someone who enjoys power more than the pleasure I can give him," she purred as her hand wandered the expanse of his chest. It traveled down his body before dancing her fingers along the bulge of his leather pants. Taking the initiative, Morrigann cupped Gabriel's parts none too gently before whispering in his ear, "and I give pleasure better than any you will ever have." 

Gabriel snarled at her before grasping her arms tightly. He openly leered at her and smelled her arousal, which was thick in the air. His eyes blazed red over their original chocolate brown tint as they examined every inch of her. 

"You know," she said innocently, "you do have that angelic sort of face." Gabriel roared before his fangs elongated and tore into the soft flesh of her neck. Morrigann cried out in pain before the pleasure exceeded the former and she was lost in the intimacy of the moment. 

As he drained her, Gabriel forced away the thoughts that her comment had spurned within him. No, he would not think about that now, although he knew what could possibly happen when he went back into time. Those that were dead now would be alive then, possibly in the slayer's employ. He was not ignorant of the very real possibility that there would be a family gathering of epic proportions. 

_I will deal with that when the time comes, _he thought to himself and proceeded to lose himself in the addictive blood of the succubus. 


	6. Days Like This

Severed Ties

Chapter 5

Days Like This 

**_May 11th, 2002_**

****

**_9:29 a.m_**_._

            "So, Rupes," Spike said while picking at the chipped paint on his nails, "get to talkin'."

            Giles had to stifle a laugh at the vampire's predictability. The watcher knew that his tone had put the blonde on edge and Spike had surmised that what Giles was going to say was serious. It reminded the watcher about the first time he had tried to have a serious talk with Spike. It had been a few weeks after the Initiative had chipped him and Giles had come to Spike while the vampire was searching for another place to live. Giles had proposed the question of whether Spike had seen the chip as a sign: a beacon of sorts, giving the vampire a second chance to fight on the side of good. He had been met with open hostility from the bleached blonde and had never again broached the subject, even during last summer when Spike had been integral to the group. No, they had still treated him like an outsider. No matter how much Dawn loved him, Spike was never looked at as part of the gang. He was the muscle or babysitter on call but never anything more. And as much animosity the Scoobies rightfully had towards Spike, despite the obvious changes that the vampire underwent, their viewpoints had never changed. 

            And Giles had no one to blame for that but himself. 

            The watcher pinched his nose, a tired sigh slipping from his lips. He had to apologize to the vampire but was clueless as to how to begin. __

Despite his cavalier façade, Spike was anything but calm waiting for Giles to break the ice. By the grave look in the watcher's eyes, Spike knew that dear old Ripper wanted nothing more than to warn him to stay away from Buffy. The vampire had known for the past month that the threats would come but he just didn't know when. If Xander had still be here, Spike had no doubt that the brunette would have taken it upon himself to give the speech but with Xander gone, the duty fell to Giles.  

            "Spike," Giles started but was interrupted when Spike stood unexpectedly. 

            "You know what, Rupes? Save it." 

            "I beg your pardon?" 

            "You heard me, you wanker." He paced a few feet from the table before walking back again. Running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair, the vampire turned towards Giles, his cerulean eyes filled with anger, pain, fear and disappointment. 

            "It's never gonna be enough for you lot, is it?" 

            "Spike," Giles said, trying to keep his tone steady. "What are you talking about?" 

            Spike let out a harsh laugh before fixing Giles with a determined gaze that made the watcher squirm. "I will not leave 'er." Though his voice was steady, Spike could feel his emotions overflowing inside. 

            "You…you mean Buffy?" 

            "I don't care what you think is best for 'er, I won't go. I made 'er a promise to always be there for 'er and you won't drive me away just because you think I don't deserve 'er. Wake up, Rupes. I know I don't soddin' deserve the slayer's 'eart, but by God, I 'ave it. And now that I do, I sure as 'ell don't intend to piss on it." 

Spike stared at the bewildered man in front of him and, if anything, Giles's confusion only fueled the vampire's frustration. 

Giles jumped when Spike roared and slammed his fist on the island countertop. "What do I 'ave to do, huh, Rupert? What do I 'ave to do for you to trust me? For you to know that I love your slayer--that I love Buffy more than my soddin' existence?" He sat down tiredly and when he next looked at Giles, the watcher saw the hundred plus years of bloodshed and pain wash over the vampire's face. 

Spike sat there, head in his hands. All the anger had drained from his body and the weariness he had tried to stave off for the past month broke free from its moorings, inundating him with a grief similar to what he had felt when she had plunged off that tower. 

"I have worked by your side for three years, Ripper. True, I haven't been the paramount of cooperation with the lot of you but--ever since this summer, I've done nothing but work beside you, no questions asked. Never have I asked for the respect or gratitude I deserve and with the exception of Glinda and Nibblet, I've never gotten consideration for the feelings that I do have.

"I know that you think I'm nothing more than a soulless monster with government plastic shoved into my brain, making me play nice but it's not that. Do you think Buffy would have told me that she loved me if she didn't trust me? If she didn't believe in me? 

"I can't fight you all. If you want me out, sooner or later, I'll be out. But I won't leave without a fight. So unless you're prepared to dust me, I suggest you sod off." The last words were whispered though Giles heard them quite clearly.

Giles motioned to put his glasses back on but decided against it. He granted Spike a humorless smile and took a deep breath before beginning. 

"Spike, for over a century, you brought death to countless innocents as William the Bloody. You have been a danger to us every moment up until the Initiative chipped you. Even then, you were dishonest with us countless times, and that's not including your impetuosity." 

Spike opened his mouth to speak but Giles silenced him with a wave of his hand. "We have had every reason to distrust you and your motives from the beginning, especially when we discovered your feelings towards Buffy. Angel once told us that you would stop at nothing to obtain that which you desire. So why would Buffy be any different? 

"Be that as it may, you did show nobility when you were taken by Glory though I must say, despite what you allowed her to do to you, I still did not trust you. But Buffy had. Truth be told, if Buffy hadn't been so adamant about it, you never would have been included in our attempted escape from Glory. It just so happened that were it not for those events, everything I detested about you would have stayed in my mind. And I would have been wrong." 

Spike looked up at that, the sincerity of the watcher's words bleeding through his dejection.

"Spike, during those last days against Glory and the subsequent months before Buffy's resurrection, you showed me something. You showed me that demons could change for the better. That they, or more to the point, _you could feel just as deeply as any human being. You disproved a lifetime's worth of education about the nature and motivations of demons. I am ashamed that I never expressed my gratitude…"_

"Gratitude?" Spike repeated as if the word was foreign to him. 

"Yes, Spike. Gratitude. Not just with when you went out on patrol with us or was there for Dawn. But also for the times you patrolled without us, fought things that even Buffy had never seen before." Giles chuckled at the vampire's surprise. "Oh, yes, Spike, I know about some of the things you did without our knowledge. I always desired to confront you about that but my grief at the time often stood in the way. I do hope you forgive my tardiness. 

"Spike, even in those times when I didn't trust you, I did respect you."

"Why?" 

"To go on after you were violated by the Initiative. The strength and fortitude it took to continue on is inconceivable. To have you entire lifestyle ripped from you without any means of retrieving it, to have the courage to go to your mortal enemy for help when you were defenseless against us. You showed a strength that most people cannot even conceive of, much less do. That was precisely the reason I approached you about your possible change in destiny." 

"If I remember correctly, I sorta threw it back in your face," Spike said and smiled sheepishly.

"That you did. Still, I should have known that you would do that. My God, it had only been a few weeks since the chip had been implanted in your head. How could I not have understood your reaction and given you more time to adjust instead of sulking?" 

"Sulking?" The vampire repeated. "Not quite sure I follow you." 

"After I asked you that first time whether or not you saw the chip as an opportunity as another way of life, I never broached the subject again and I can only assume that it was my blasted pride that prevented me from asking you again. Not only that, but I never tried to include you as a part of the group, despite the time we shared in my flat." 

"Sorry, Rupes, but you know as well as I do that, back then, I'd 've drained the lot of you the first chance I got." 

"So why didn't you?" On the blonde's puzzled stare, he continued. "You could have hired demons to kill us, just like you did with the Order of Taraka. You could have sent an army of bounty hunters after us until we were finally beaten. You didn't. Why?"

Spike shrugged. Truthfully, he had briefly entertained that exact course of action but dismissed it just as quickly. 

"I do not know, either," Giles conceded, "but what I do know is that if you were the same demon that came to town all those years ago, then chances are we wouldn't be having this conversation. Spike, you have changed and it's a tragedy that we've never taken notice of it before." 

The room was silent for several minutes as Giles allowed the blonde to mull over what had been said. When he thought enough time had elapsed, the bespectacled man addressed the final segment of his thoughts. 

"Buffy has been through so much in her young life, and I am not just referring to the task of fighting evil virtually every night. I'm referring to the heartbreak of loss; of those she gave her heart to leaving her. 

"Her sorry excuse of a father was her first major disappointment. He skipped out on her without a second thought and has not contacted her since."

"Good riddance," Spike nodded, the vehemence clear in his tone. Giles smiled grimly and not for the first time he wished he could get his hands on Hank Summers, to throttle the man into submission for abandoning his family. 

"Then," the watcher continued, "there was the Angel debacle. Having to kill him tore away any innocence and faith that she had. Though she will never regain the former, her faith has been slowly restored. Of course the faith that she had begun to get back before Joyce got sick was damaged by Riley's betrayal and what she felt as her mother abandoning her."

"But Joyce would have done anything for Buffy."

"I know that, you know that and, somewhere deep down, so does Buffy. But it still doesn't change the fact that, in Buffy's eyes, Joyce, just like all the others, left her. Just like her father, just like Angel and Riley. Just like me."

"You?" 

"Because I left her, too. Although it was under the pretense that I was doing her a favor, even as bad as she was apparently doing after the resurrection, I still felt as if I was no more useful than a crutch to her, having no real value." 

"I understand," the vampire whispered. Giles nodded though decided not to comment any further on the subject. 

"So, you see, Spike, every man Buffy has ever cared for has left her. Though their excuses may have been different, the fact remains that they all deserted her. All of us. Except you."

"And I never will," Spike swore. 

"I know you won't. If you haven't left yet after all we have put you through, then you won't now that Buffy loves you.

"You are her equal, Spike. You stand up to her regardless of her mood. You instill confidence when she requires it and feed her the unvarnished truth unlike any other. You hold her in the highest esteem yet do not place her upon a pedestal where she can do no wrong. You are the only one strong enough, in both mind and body to be what she needs. A partner." 

Reading the vampire's thoughts, Giles stood and walked over to the seated vampire, laying his hand on the blonde's shoulder. "Spike, despite you not having a soul, despite the demon living inside of you, your love for Buffy has proven to me that you have within you what most people in this world shall never have." Off of Spike's look, Giles finished. 

"Humanity."

Spike felt chills creep over his undead flesh at the simple word and tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Buffy had told him the exact same thing the night before the fight at the Bronze and it had meant everything to him. He never thought anyone could say anything that would affect him the way her acknowledgment of him did. And even if Giles's admission did not top that moment with Buffy, it had come pretty damn close. 

Giles saw the vampire—no—the man, before him struggling with a battery of emotions. He smiled internally at Spike's desperate attempts to conceal what he was feeling to no avail. Giles had always known that the vampire's emotions were always revealed through his cerulean eyes.  And though he was of the "stiff upper crust variety", Giles wondered briefly if his own feelings towards his surrogate daughter's paramour were evident. 

Saying no more, the watcher nodded before taking the paper and exiting the kitchen, leaving Spike to his own devices. 

As soon as Giles left, a single tear made its way down Spike's cheek and he roughly wiped it away. Taking a deep breath, he headed to the basement in an attempt to find a semblance of peace. 

Plopping down on the mattress, Spike stared up at the ceiling. "Thank you," he whispered to the empty room before falling asleep and, for the first time since he had been with Buffy, Spike slept with a smile on his face. 

*&*

**_May 11th, 2002_**

****

**_12:18 p.m._**

            "Faith, no!" Dawn screamed though her shouts of protest fell on deaf ears. 

            "Sorry, _Dawnie,_ but I don't think that'll cut it," came the snarky reply from the slayer. 

            "Faith, if you drop me, so help me I will…" but Dawn's words were cut short when she was tossed three feet into the air and into the snapping waves. The water crashed over her head and it was several seconds before she surfaced, hacking water from her mouth. All the while, Faith stood knee deep in the waves, hands on her stomach as she laughed uncontrollably. 

            "You are so dead," Dawn yelled and charged the laughing slayer. Faith evaded Dawn's lunge and ran to shore with the brunette not too far behind. 

            "Come back here, Faith," Dawn screamed, chasing her through the throng of beach going onlookers. 

            "Gotta catch me first, _Auntie," she hollered over her shoulder. They had been at the beach a little over two hours and the whole time had been spent like this; laughing and joking with Willow and Tara, though the latter two had remained in their initial spot, reading and soaking up the sun. _

            Faith laughed as Dawn chased her. The blonde risked a peek behind her and saw that Dawn was catching up rapidly. _Wow, she thought to herself, _Dawnie's really…__

            She never finished the thought because, when her eyes focused in front of her, a group of three guys with their backs turned blocked her path. Faith reacted instinctively, somersaulting over the group, landing on the other side of them. 

            "Hey guys," Faith said, grinning sheepishly at the three guys that gaped at her in shock. She glanced past them, looking for Dawn but saw no sign of her. Shrugging her shoulders, Faith turned around and made her way back to Tara and Willow. 

            He had come out of nowhere. 

            One minute Dawn had been on her niece's heels, intent on making Faith pay for the little 'hoist Dawn into the ocean' stunt while, the next minute she was spitting out a mouthful of sand. 

            "Damn it," the teen growled, her anger directed at whatever it had been that had tripped her up. 

            "Careful baby," a deep voice said close to her ear. Dawn jumped up, pushing off the hard body underneath her.  She scrambled to her feet and glared at the smirking figure still on his back. 

            "Young ladies aren't supposed to talk like that," he teased and held his hand out for Dawn to help him up. She folded her arms across her chest in response.  "So, I take it you're not going to give me a hand, huh?" Dawn cocked an eyebrow at the stranger who chuckled at her gesture before getting to his feet and dusting the sand from his body. 

            Although she was pissed, Dawn couldn't help but gasp when she finally got a clear view of the guy in front of her. 

            He wasn't too tall, maybe an inch or so taller than Spike and had the same lean and muscular build. That however was where the similarities ended. 

            Where Spike was light, the shirtless guy in front of her was dark. His chocolate brown skin shone with what looked like oil as specks of sand still clung to his arms and chest. She could make out a few scars here and there, as well as a tattoo encircling his right bicep but those particular details were secondary to his other outstanding features. 

A dark blue sun visor lay on the ground beside him and his baldhead twinkled almost as much as his chocolate brown eyes. Familiar eyes that beckoned to the brunette but she shook it off and studied the strong jut of his jaw and his full, inviting lips that were highlighted by a nearly perfect goatee. She trailed the pattern of his facial hair before settling back on those oh so inviting lips that were now curved into a smile. 

            Her breath hitched in her chest when he closed the short distance between them and looked down at her with his friendly eyes. She thought she saw a flicker of recognition pass through them before the warmth returned. His gaze traveled over her and though she was surprised by his observation of her bikini-clad form, she did not for a second feel uncomfortable.

            "You're a little dirty there," he said, his voice husky. He lifted his hand to her arm and gently brushed the sand away. Dawn's eyes widened at the simple touch and she bit her tongue to stifle a groan. 

            Brown-eyes must have felt it too, she surmised when he took a quick step back before regaining his composure. 

            "Sorry 'bout that. Guess you weren't watching where you were going." 

            "Yeah, about that…" Dawn started but frowned when she realized what he said. "I wasn't watching where _I was going?! Are you serious? That was like totally your fault." _

            "Easy there, tiger," he said, raising his hands, palms up, in submission. "I was just messin' with you." His thick eyebrows arched in amusement that only irritated Dawn further. 

            "First off, my name is _not 'tiger'. It's Dawn."_

            "Dawn," he repeated as if trying her name out on his lips. "I like." 

            "Whatever." 

            "Look, Dawn," he said and the teen shivered at the way her name sounded on his lips. "I was just playing around with you when I said that. I am sorry that I did run into you." 

            "That's why you were so concerned on whether or not I was hurt." He opened his mouth to say something but decided against it. He didn't think '_I know you can take more than that'_ would land him in Dawn's good graces. 

            "Sorry," he said and shrugged his shoulders. "Forgive me?" He gave her another brilliant smile before jutting his hand out to her. Dawn studied it intently, trying not to stare at the marble chisel of his abdominal muscles or the vein that flowed down his bicep, branching off into his forearm. 

            Taking a deep breath, she shook his hand and relaxed as the warmth from his touch slithered up her arm and into her chest. 

            "C.J." His voice broke Dawn from her reverie and she gaped at him with wide eyes. 

            "What?"

            "C.J. That's my name. Well, at least what everyone calls me. My real name's Cedrik, or Ced for short." 

            Dawn smirked. "So, you just have the monopoly on aliases, don't you?"

            "You could say that." He dropped his eyes, his attention inadvertently falling to Dawn's exposed midriff. Coughing, to cover up his embarrassment, C.J. focused back onto her face. "So you forgive me?" 

            "For what?" 

            "Well, for the whole human roadblock thing." Dawn laughed aloud and covered her mouth in embarrassment almost immediately. C.J. chuckled at her modesty before instinctively brushing a strand of hair from her face. Dawn's cheeks flushed at the contact and she hugged herself tightly. 

            "Well, I better go," she stammered. "I'm still looking for payback on that dear old niece of mine." On his perplexed look, she waved her hand. "Don't ask." 

            "Sure," he said and couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice.

            "It was nice meeting you, Cedrik," she smiled and started to walk past him. 

            "Are you gonna be here awhile longer?" He asked and Dawn thought she caught a trace of hope in his tone.

            "At least a few more hours." 

            "That's good. Maybe we'll run into each other again before the day's out."

            "Maybe," Dawn whispered just loud enough for him to hear before waving back at him shyly and walking away. 

            "Well," Cedrik said to himself, "if it's up to me, that will definitely happen." He couldn't conceal the grin on his face as he walked back to his friends who had already started teasing him from afar. 

**A/N: Good news! Starting next Tuesday, I will be back on my schedule of _Severed Ties _on Tuesday and _Do What You Have to Do _on Fridays/Saturdays. That will make me focus more and get things out faster.**

**Our next chapter finds us in LA with the AI gang. Cordy has a vision… **


	7. Through Thine Eyes

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 6

__

Through Thine Eyes

****

Los Angeles

May 16th, 2002

2:08 a.m. 

The pain was something that, a year ago, would have been expected. A sharp jolt to the skull, kind of like being cracked by a sledgehammer, always accompanied their delivery. She'd get up (with help, of course), recite what she saw before downing two or three (sometimes even four) aspirins with a glass of water and then—hey—back to normal. Of course, that didn't include the little sidebar that the supernatural migraines were turning her brain to mush but that was okay. Once she became part demon, said migraines immediately following the PTB's glorious emailing system had become a thing of the past. 

Now, as she writhed on the floor, screaming incoherently, Cordelia was reminded a little too bluntly how bad the visions used to be. More than that, however, her mind's eye saw that her pain, however mind-numbing was nothing compared to…

_Hazel eyes opening, unsure, surveying the room. _

Panic, fear, disappointment before relief and elation pour through as cobalt blue eyes, filled with love stare back. 

Purely, unadulterated joy as two lovers unite…

Her first love, near death as the creature tore into him, laughing all the while-before he's saved by a man who is…but isn't-himself. 

Death as the others step through the portal. 

  
Cobalt blue eyes shimmer in disgust and regret as they watch the woman atop him. The woman with red eyes smiling down evilly at him as she takes his dignity. She whispers to him that this will destroy his slayer and that his slayer will kill him. 

She watches the two together, the succubus wrapped around her lover. Pain like she has never known as her chest bursts. He walks to her, his demon face in place. His fangs puncture her skin and she reacts instinctively…

The stake appears in her hand and she slams it into his chest…

"You never trusted me," he manages before dusting. 

She falls to the floor, stake clattering to the ground, weeping and she is surrounded, her friends dead. He walks up to her, his face hidden behind a cowl though his voice is more than familiar…

"Now that's everything, huh? No weapons…no friends…no hope. Take that all away, and what's left...?"

She looks up at him; her grief-stricken face contorted in the anguish of her loved ones gone and the words that he spoke. 

He drops his cowl and her shriek coincides with Cordelia's, as they know the destruction that will be wrought in this world by…

"Angel!" Cordelia screamed as the final visions assaulted her mind. Not ten seconds later, the dark vampire was by her side, followed by Gunn and Fred. 

"Cordy," Angel said as he held the limp woman in his lap. "Cordy, answer me. It's Angel, I'm here." 

"What happened?" Gunn asked. 

"I…I don't know," Angel conceded. "It looks like she had a vision." 

"But she hasn't been one with the cosmic migraine since she…" 

"Became part demon, I know," the vampire ground out. His hands held her shoulders firmly as her body slowly came down from the seizures. He wiped away the blood from where she had bitten her lip. Time stood still for Angel as he watched Cordy's now unmoving form nestled in his arms. It felt so good, so right for her to be here. Unfortunately, the reason was not quite what he would have wanted. 

"Here's a pillow, for her head," Fred whispered as she kneeled down next to Angel and the vampire glanced at her. He hadn't even realized that she and Gunn, who followed her and took position on the opposite side of Cordelia, had gotten up. 

"Three industrial strength aspirin and a cup of water for our very own oracle." Gunn smiled at his fallen comrade, hoping that he could will her eyes open. It was a gesture that he shared with the two others across from him. 

"Do you think we should move her to the couch?" Fred asked and her eyes sought those of her boyfriend. The fear and helplessness within her fell away temporarily as she stared into Gunn's loving eyes. 

"Fred's right, my man," Gunn conceded. "As comfortable as it probably is in your lap, maybe she'll be better off over on the couch." The two lovers waited for Angel to respond to the suggestion and, after several seconds, he nodded and lifted the seer into his arms effortlessly. 

It took a few minutes for Cordelia to open her eyes, and when she did, Angel's undead heart seized in his chest at the pain and fear reflected in her irises. 

"Cordy," he said and took her hand. Although the seizures had subsided, her body still trembled, though it was not from physical injury. "What is it?" 

Tears cascaded down the woman's cheeks as she took in the man before her. No longer had Cordelia thought of Angel anything but that. True, a demon resided inside his flesh but that did not make him less of a man. On the contrary, it made him more. Most people had their own internal demons to battle in order to remain on the path of righteousness, but with Angel, he had to battle his own demons and not just in the metaphorical sense but the literal as well. Everyday his soul warred with his natural instincts and everyday his resilience to fight against the darkness grew. He was strong of mind, body and soul. The fact that his past was covered in darkness was irrelevant now because he was now the champion of the light. He was the embodiment of redemption, a man who was determined to make amends for his past mistakes, no matter how long it took. And no matter what obstacles were in his path, he would find his way around them. 

It was for all those reasons that Cordelia had fallen helplessly in love with him. 

She pulled Angel close to her, pushing away the memories of his face, twisted in evil as it glared contemptuously down at Buffy. She could not let herself imagine that. The look in his eyes had been so hateful, so cold, quite the opposite of the warmth that greeted her only moments ago. It had been even more terrifying than Angelus, that scornful sneer in her vision. It couldn't have been him, But what if it was? What if something caused him to relieve that one true moment of happiness? - Ripping his soul away. What if it had been…?

"Cordy?" This time it was Gunn, his tone soft and worried, just like Angel's had been. She stared at him over Angel's shoulder as she clung to the vampire. For some reason, the picture of her fellow comrade and his girlfriend stabilized the brunette and she gently pushed Angel away. 

"I'm…I'm fine, guys," she lied. Their looks told her that they knew that she wasn't though they said nothing of it. She ran a hand through her short hair and inhaled deeply. Angel's comforting scent, a mixture of leather, blood and cologne assaulted her and she smiled inwardly. His hands still rested on her hips and she didn't mind one bit. She exhaled sharply, knowing what she had to say to him, knowing that, in less than a day, they would be headed down the road and back to that small little town that she had once called home. 

"It's Buffy," she said and although she knew what his reaction would be, it still hurt to see the concerned frown mold his face. _God, Cordy, _she thought derisively. _Selfish much? _

"Is she all right?" 

"Well, she will be." Cordelia dropped her gaze to Angel's strong forearms. She placed her hands on them, her fingers kneading his tense muscles. When she looked back up, the tension that had appeared at the mention of his ex's name was a distant memory. Of course, it would return in full force once the whole story came from her lips. 

"But not for long," she said and brought a hand to his cheek. 

"That doesn't sound too encouraging," Fred's meek voice sounded in the silence. 

"How bad?" The vampire almost growled and the seer flinched though she knew the anger was not directed at her. 

"Bad bad. As in 'end of the world' bad." 

"Like I'd expect anything less," Gunn bit sarcastically and massaged the back of his neck with one hand. 

"Oh, it's more than 'apocalypse' bad," Cordelia replied and stared directly into Angel's dark eyes. 

"What?" He whispered, realizing that she was speaking directly to him. 

"Whatever it is that's coming is bad. And if we survive, we're never going to be the same." Angel sighed. He wanted to tell her that he already knew that much from his distinguished experiences of being on both sides of an impending apocalypse. Even if all did survive they were changed, another coat of innocence stripped away. But that was life for them. She should have been used to that by now. That's what he wanted to say. 

But he didn't. 

Instead, he held his tongue. The conviction behind her words, the truth he read in her eyes was what got to him. It wasn't just because Cordelia believed it that he conceded. There was also that prickling feeling at the back of his neck that continued to grow, had been growing ever since Connor had been taken from him. He had, at first, thought it was nothing more than grief; grief and hope that his son would be returned to him. But that had been two months ago and still there had gotten no answers on how to retrieve the infant and yet, the uneasiness remained. Now, as he stared longingly into Cordelia's eyes, Angel knew why it had never left. 

Whatever it was she had seen, whatever it was that awaited them in Sunnydale would fundamentally change them forever. 

The only thing Angel wasn't sure of was if that change would be for the good. 

Or a sharp left turn into a world of badness. 

*&*

**__**

Sunnydale

May 16th, 2002

2:23 a.m. 

Faith groaned as she limped up the steps, weapons bag slung over her shoulder. Her whole body felt like one big bruise. 

"A bruise and then some," she grumbled to herself when she reached the second floor. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door, letting the bag slip onto the floor. The blonde stuck her tongue out at the weary face that stared back at her through the mirror. 

"I look wonderful," she smiled sarcastically at her blood and dirt encrusted features. Tonight had been her first full night of patrolling since…well, since she'd been here. Her and Spike had left for patrol at around nine, done some patrolling together before splitting up at around eleven or so. Of course, after separating, she would get hounded the entire night by demons and vampires. She had lost count of how many she dusted but judging from the burning in her chest, her lungs sure as hell hadn't. 

She grimaced when the rough edge of the face rag rubbed the gash in her forehead the wrong way. _Oh well, _she thought, _nothing but a little pain. _

Finishing up with her face, the slayer stripped down and hopped into the shower. She turned the water all the way over till it was nearly scalding her skin. The heat was a welcome distraction from the throb of her muscles and tendons, especially the throb that radiated from her right knee. 

As much as she had told everyone her leg was fine, it was far from it. Not that it kept her up at night or anything but when she put too much stress on it, like, say, when she was fighting for her life, the discomfort was very real. Taking out at least a dozen demons, several of whom had gotten a few good licks in, two of whom stood out for throwing her though tombstones no less, was the reason for the full tilt boogie on the pain as it was now. Her slayer healing would make the pain go away by the time she got up in the morning but that didn't help her much at the moment. No, the only thing that was helping was the lovely feel of water scorching her skin. 

By the time Faith exited the shower the water had cooled significantly. She took a few minutes to dry off and gingerly applied baby oil to her skin before wrapping a cold compress around her right knee. She'd keep it on fifteen minutes and would take it of before getting in bed. And that way Spike would never have to find out. Satisfied that everything was in order, she gathered her belongings in her arms and hobbled to the room she shared with Dawn, mindful of the towel wrapped around her petite frame. 

Once in the room, she silently went about her business, putting her weapons away and getting dressed in the darkness. She was mindful of the noise, knowing that Dawn still had a few more weeks of school left. How the teen remained so strong in light of everything that had happened was a mystery to Faith but, like her, Dawn was a Summers woman and the slayer took no small pride in the strength of her heritage. 

Taking a few minutes to brush her growing hair, Faith finally climbed into bed after removing the compress on her knee, thankful that Dawn hadn't claimed the entire surface as her own. She had remained on her side, giving Faith half the mattress and possibly a chance at a decent night's sleep. 

"Sleep," she muttered dreamily as the word immediately began to fade from her mind. The aches of her body were suddenly a distant memory as the warmth of rest twirled its thin tendrils of influence around her entire being. A tiny smile creased her lips as she rushed to greet the restful unconsciousness. She was almost there when the silent click of a door opening coincided with her mind bolting awake as it remembered something she had chronicled in her diary over a month ago. 

"Mum," she said into the darkness, her voice carrying through the air. She heard the quiet beat of footsteps up the stairs and then the light knock at the door. 

"Bitlet," Spike whispered before slowly opening the door. Faith barely registered the presence of her father as images not her own flooded her mind…

_The blinding, searing light of the dome blinds her temporarily as she claws her way out of the darkness. _

Mind numbing fear grips her as she relieves the nightmares of her dreams. She wants, needs someone to comfort her but no one is there. 

HE isn't there. 

She whimpers his name through her haze but receives no response. She's in a panic as she realizes that she's alone. 

Always alone. 

She wants to scream for him but her vocal cords lack the strength and all that her throat elicits is a hoarse cry. 

So alone. 

Always alone…

"Faith," Spike said and winced when Dawn mumbled in her sleep but returned his attention back to his daughter, thankful that the younger girl did not waken. "C'mon, Bitlet, snap out of it." He grabbed her shoulders and tried to keep his tone light but a hint of worry tinged his words. He had been uneasy all night, his predatory instincts screaming in his ears that something was wrong. Though it had been the first time Faith had patrolled without him, Spike doubted that that was the reason for his unease. No, it was something else. Something having to do with…

"…Her," Faith's voice broke through his whirling thoughts. 

"What was that, 'let?" He asked and dropped his hands from her shoulders. He gasped at the smile she graced him with. So like Buffy yet still her own. 

"Go to her." 

"Go to who, pet?" He asked. Faith cocked her head to the side, clearly annoyed but before she said anymore, Spike's eyes sparkled with understanding and love. He kissed her on the forehead and sped out the room. 

Five seconds later, Faith heard the distinct slam of the front door. 

Three seconds after that, the revving engine of the de Soto shattered the silence of the night. 

Two seconds following, Faith heard tires peel as Spike was undoubtedly about to break every speed limit known to man. 

Three seconds later as she heard him turn the corner, Faith's head hit the pillow, a content sigh escaping her lips before she allowed sleep to finally claim her. 

Her last thought was that the next time she opened her eyes Buffy would be awake. They would be a family again. 

And nothing in the world could make Faith happier. 

***Well, our next chapter will be _Awakenings, _for obvious reasons. It will be up February 4th, either a pre- or post-Buffy treat. 


	8. Awakenings

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 7

__

Awakenings

****

Sunnydale

May 16th, 2002

2:49 a.m. 

What would normally have been a twenty minute drive was made in five, thanks to reckless driving, vampiric reflexes and, hey, a tank on wheels. 

Spike stopped in the front of Sunnydale Memorial, the front tires of the de Soto resting on the sidewalk. Cutting off the engine, he leapt out of the car without closing the door. He heard several shouts of protest and threats of security as he tore through the first floor. He vaguely felt the light shock to his brain when he pushed an orderly out of the way as he ran towards the steps. It took less than five seconds to climb the three flights of steps to reach Buffy's floor. A few seconds after he rammed through the stairwell door, he found himself in front of her room. 

The adrenaline that propelled him the last few minutes was sapped from his being in an instant as he stared at her through the glass. The hope that bloomed within his chest curdled into doubt and his excitement dwindled into fear, as he stood, immobile, only a few feet away from the love of his unlife. He wanted so much to hold her again in his arms, to have her whisper her love to him as he promised her the world. He wanted to feel her warm lips against his cool ones, to hear her moan into his mouth as they reconnected with one another, never to be separated again. Oh, how he wanted that and all that was between them was one insignificant door. 

A single door and his own terror. 

Spike had given no time about the validity of Faith's statement on his way over but now his mind wouldn't let go of the possibility that his daughter's words were nothing more than talking in her sleep. He was afraid of going into the room and finding out that Buffy was still lost in her coma. If that was the case, the vampire didn't know how he would cope, thus his hesitation. It was better not to know than to have his hopes crushed. 

"Quit being such a git," he scolded himself and ran a shaky hand through his platinum locks. "Bitlet wasn't dreamin', you ninny. Now, go in there and sit by your woman till she wakes up." 

Satisfied with the self-imposed pep talk, Spike reached up towards the door and slowly pushed it open. He winced at the minute creek of the hinges but continued on until there was enough room for him to slip through. Once inside, he closed the door softly. He stared at the handle, his shoes and through the window--anything to keep him from turning around and facing the petite woman in the bed. _Be a man, Spike, _he chided himself. _Slayer's always counted on you to be strong. Now's no different. Show 'er that she wasn't wrong about you. _

Taking a deep breath, Spike turned around. Words failed him as he caught sight of Buffy. She looked so at peace, so at ease, as if there was nothing in the world wrong with her. Not even the IVs that stuck in her arm marred the image of his beautiful goddess. He closed the distance between them slowly, afraid to disturb Buffy's peaceful slumber. He stopped less than a foot from the bed, close enough to touch but far enough away so as not to intrude on her privacy. 

"Hey, luv," he whispered and inched forward even more. His thighs brushed against the mattress and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He wanted nothing more than to stroke her face, whisper in her ear that she was not alone. But as much as he longed to touch her, another part of him was afraid that the simple, innocent contact that he craved would do nothing but shatter the image of peace he saw before him. 

_Get off it, mate. Sooner on later you're gonna have ta do it. Might as well be now. _Taking another deep, unnecessary breath, Spike reached out tentatively towards Buffy's cheek. He shivered when his fingertips glided across her warm flesh and he struggled not to pull her into his arms. 

"Hey, Buffy," he said and leaned closer towards her. "It's me, Spike. Sorry bout not comin' by last night, 's just that I told Faith I'd let her patrol alone tonight and, well, I wanted to make sure there weren't any ultra Big Bad wannabes tryin' to snack on our daughter. Figure if she got roughed up, you'd make sure to kick my arse right an' proper. Speakin' of arse kickin's, you should've seen me the other night, pet. I was wonderful if I don't say so myself. See, there were these two Lei-ach demons. You remember 'em, don't ya? From when Glinda did that spell to conceal her demon self. Anyway, like I said, these two Lei-ach…" 

As Spike wove his tale of patrolling, the doubt he had felt earlier gradually dissipated as he scooted carefully onto the bed, his right arm propping up his head while his left hand tenderly stroked the back of Buffy's hand. Soon, he had forgotten (or more to the fact, pushed out of his mind) about what Faith had said. Instead, he was intent on passing this night with Buffy just as any other night he stayed with her. 

Not long after he had slid onto the bed had Spike began to doze and, several minutes after his initial head nod, the vampire was asleep, holding the limp hand of Buffy. 

If he would have staved off sleep for two minutes longer, he would have felt the small fingers of the slayer tighten around his hand. 

*&*

**__**

Los Angeles

May 16th, 2002

2:56 a.m.

"Angel," Cordelia yelled at the swiftly moving vampire. She hadn't been vertical five minutes before Angel had left her side, intent on gathering supplies for their short notice trek to Sunnydale. He had ignored her requests to settle down and think about things, replying over his shoulder that they didn't have time. _Like he's the one with the visions, _she growled internally. As much as she loved Angel, she couldn't help but be frustrated by his insufferable "This is what we're going to do" way of doing things. 

"Gunn," he said as he scavenged the weapons case, "you and Fred stay here with Cordelia." 

"Come again, bro?" 

"Buffy needs help but not all of us. And since I don't know how long it's going to take, someone has to stay here and keep the Agency running."

"I agree on that last part my man but thinking that you're gonna be enough to help Buffy when whatever it is has Cordy being one with the Tylenols--I mean, no offense, but I don't think you're gonna be able to cut it goin' solo." 

"Well, it'll have to do," he replied absently. The truth was that if what was coming was strong enough to give Cordy a major migraine despite her new hybrid self--well, he had to agree with Gunn on that assessment. Still, he would never admit that to them. 

"Well, I don't like it," Gunn persisted. "I mean if…" 

"You don't have to like it," Angel growled, interrupting the man. "Just do it." 

"Um, excuse me, Mr. Take Charge," Cordelia interrupted, "but you're not the boss of us anymore." 

"Cordy…" 

"Don't 'Cordy' me. You are not our boss. Ever since you went all 'I wanna lose my soul' last year, you have worked for us or, at the very least, this has been a partnership."

"Cordy," The vampire muttered, clearly trying to reign in his temper, "we don't have time for this." 

"That's where you're wrong," she replied. "We do have time and, if you would stop with the double-time march over there, you would have known that by now." 

"All right, then how much time do we have?" He asked condescendingly. 

"I don't know…" Cordelia started. 

"Well, then, do you think we should wait until you think it's time and then head out? Do you want to take that risk?" 

"I don't know _exactly _long we have but I do know that a few days of preparation will be a lot better than going in, guns blazing, in the middle of the night with no clue as to what's going on. Besides, Gunn is right." Cordelia's voice softened as she grabbed Angel's hand. "As good as you are, Angel, what I saw coming--you're not going to be able to do it alone. You--and Buffy--are going to need us."

"And me," a familiar voice sounded from the front of the lobby. All heads turned towards the door and saw the petite brunette, dressed in all black staring back at them. 

"Faith?" Angel questioned in disbelief before striding across the room and to the slayer. "What are you doing here? Did you break out?" Faith cringed slightly at the disappointment she heard in Angel's voice but steadied herself. Bruised feelings weren't quite on the list of high priorities at the moment. 

"Long story that's so not important right now. But what is important is that May Queen's right," Faith said and shot a smirk at Cordelia before returning her attention back to Angel. "As good as you are, lover, it's not gonna be enough for B. Hell, I don't even know if me and that undead boy toy of hers will be able to make a difference." 

"Undead boy toy?" Angel repeated. 

"Yeah, the Billy Idol wannabe. The one with the killer cheekbones." Faith bit her lip when she saw the flecks of gold dot the vampire's irises when he realized what she was talking about. "But that's not the point." 

"I'll kill him if he's touched her," Angel growled. 

"Listen, stud muffin," Faith said, "as much as I enjoy a guy fight, now's not the time for the bruised ego bit. We're gonna need everybody on the same team here and if you're gonna get into a pissing contest with the gorgeous undead when we get back to Sunny D, then keep your broody ass here." 

Silence filled the room as the others glanced from Faith to Angel then back again. The tiny slayer folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot impatiently. "So, what's it gonna be?" She asked Angel after a few minutes. 

The vampire balled his hands into fists, relishing the pain as his nails cut into his flesh. He took several steadying breaths before addressing Faith. 

"You said we have some time. How much time do we have?" 

"Not long," she replied. "Not long at all. I suggest we get a move on within the next two days." 

"Two days?" Gunn asked, wrapping his arms around a shivering Fred. "Why two days?" 

"Well, the main course may not be here for a while yet, but that doesn't mean that there won't be appetizers while we wait." 

"You saw all this?" Fred asked. 

"That," Faith said and her eyes locked on Cordelia, "and a whole helluva lot more." 

*&*

**__**

Sunnydale

May 16th, 2002

3:49 a.m.

Pain ripped through him as he exited the portal, his body spasming as the cool breeze assaulted his flesh. Gathering his bearings quickly, he studied his surroundings, noting that he was in some sort of warehouse. The broken windows offered no protection from the elements or prying eyes so he wandered further back into the deserted maze before he was satisfied with his current location. 

Laying down behind several large boxes, the demon nestled into the concrete, the discomfort of the hard surface on his back drawing a tight smile from his lips. His Master had told him to feast, to cause havoc, but not to touch the slayers. And he would lose himself in the pain and suffering of others soon enough but for now, he would rest. 

And as he fell into unconsciousness, Algolagniar shivered in anticipation of what was in store for this quaint little town when he awoke. 

*&*

The scent was the first thing she noticed. Tobacco, leather and strength wafted through the air and to her nostrils, beating away the residual panic she had felt as she surfaced from the blackness of her own mind. When consciousness was within her reach, she grasped at it with all that she had, determined not to remain in the world of dreams that plagued her the last…what? --Days? Weeks? Years? To be honest, she had no idea how long she had been gone and was dreading to find out. Last time it had been a hundred and forty-seven days. To her, however, it was like an eternity and an instant rolled into one. But unlike that time, she had wanted nothing more than to return to her family. To Dawn. To Giles and the Scoobies. 

To the man that was by her side. 

Buffy smiled at the sleeping form of her vampire lover. He had told her he would never leave her side and here he was, adhering to a promise despite not knowing when she would awaken. Waking up with him next to her was indescribable. The part of her that was aware during the time she slept was terrified that she would wake up--cold and alone, clawing her way through mounds of dirt. A part of her, for that very reason, wanted nothing more than to remain ignorant of what reception she would receive when she opened her eyes. But she hadn't been alone. Spike was here for her, by her side. Just like he always was. 

Tears trickled down Buffy's cheeks as she studied the face of the man who had fought against his nature because of his love for her. He had taken the worst she had to offer and, instead of running away, he only loved her more. Buffy bit her lip, stifling the sob that begged to be released. 

_I don't deserve this, _she thought and gripped his hand tighter. _I don't deserve what Spike has given me. I'm such a bitch--how could he love me so much after everything I did? _

But he does, another voice whispered in her ear. _Does it really matter if you don't feel worthy of it so long as he does? . _

But I've hurt him so much…

And yet he remains by your side, true to you. And he always will. The final words spoken by a part of her that had slowly emerged the last few months quieted the slayer's doubts. The voice was right. No matter what she thought of herself or what she 'deserved', Spike's love was given to her free of conditions save for one hope. To love him unconditionally. Just as he loved her. 

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, Buffy leaned over to the sleeping vampire, mindful of the IVs embedded in her flesh. She smiled when he jerked slightly as her free hand cupped his cheek. The scowl that lined his face melted into a contented smile when she stroked his face and he leaned into the touch, purring as he did so. 

Buffy giggled at the sound before sobering up. As much as she loved watching him sleep like this, as peaceful as he looked, Buffy wanted to look into those beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that held an unfathomable love for her. She had to see them to erase the insecurities that her own past had carved into her. Only then, watching him drink her with a glance, would she feel safe and secure. 

"Spike," she whispered and stifled another laugh as her breath tickled his ear. "Baby, wake up." He mumbled tiredly before turning towards her, still asleep. Buffy would have laughed again but the slight jut of his lips caught her attention. Her tongue moistened her own automatically as she replayed the hundreds of kisses those lips had delivered to her. 

Unable to resist the call, Buffy closed the distance between them and brushed a feathery kiss to Spike. Chaste at first, it didn't take long for her to want more and her demanding mouth probed his lips and, before long, he responded with equal fervor. She moaned when his hands roamed over her body and Buffy returned the favor, cupping the bulge in his pants with the roughness he liked. Their tongues battled for custody of the other and Buffy moaned his name breathlessly. 

And just like that, the kiss ended. 

Fully awake now, well behind other parts of him, Spike pulled back and stared at the vision before him. Yes, it had to be a vision because his Buffy was…

"Spike?" The sound of his name on her lips was unbearable and he gasped. It was a far cry from manly but, at that moment, Spike cared for nothing else save for the beautiful angel with hazel eyes that shone with love. It had been so long since he had seen those eyes--seemingly a lifetime, but they were open now. Open and hazy. 

Spike shook his head, trying to clear the blurry image before him. Buffy's hand cupped his cheek before her thumb brushed away the moisture that had fallen from his eyes. He watched her in fascination, still oblivious to the tears that poured from his eyes in waves. It reminded him all too much of that first time he had seen her descend the steps after being dead for so long. But this, this was something entirely different. No matter what he told himself, loving her alone was never enough. And as much as he loved her then, nothing could compare to the feeling of knowing that she loved him just as much. That everything that was Buffy Summers was for him now. Him and him alone. 

It was then that the sobs that had caught in his throat erupted. 

"Shhh, baby, it's okay," Buffy whispered and peppered his face with kisses as he hugged her tight. "I'm here now, see? I'm here baby and I'm not going anywhere." Her words only made him cry harder and Buffy winced as his arms tightened around her though she said nothing. She would take any discomfort the world threw at her if it would soothe the pain inside her beautiful vampire. Her beautiful man. 

It took several minutes before Spike regained control of his emotions. Slowly, as if any sudden movements would drive her away, Spike lifted his head and gazed into the teary eyes of the slayer. His slayer. Though he had been in his own world, relief and fear blocking most things out, her words of love had reached him, tethering him to this plane. Without them, he thought he may have incinerated by the heat of his emotions alone. 

Spike opened his mouth to speak but only managed a hoarse whisper. His mind ceased functioning as Buffy graced him with a soft smile she rarely showed, even to Dawn. That smile made him want to confess his love and devotion to her all over again but when he finally regained the use of his voice, the words he finally spoke to her were not his first choice. 

"Your eyes are all puffy." The look on her face was priceless and he would definitely tease her about it later. But now, there was nothing but her. 

After the initial shock of Spike's first words, Buffy chuckled before running the back of her hand once again across the cheek of the awestruck vampire. "Looks whose talking--you made my shirt all sticky. Never knew that vampires had snot." She smirked at him at this last bit and was relieved to see the paralysis melt away. The sheer joy in his smile took her breath away and Buffy could not help but fall in love with her angel all over again. 

_Better not tell him that, _she thought amusedly. _He may get the wrong idea. _No, Spike didn't need any reminder at all about the great poof. No, he needed every reassurance that she was here to stay. 

__

"…To you." She snapped out of her thoughts in time to catch the last part. "I didn't wanna believe 'er, but I did--believe 'er I mean. She said that you'd want me 'ere, luv. She said it." 

"Who, Spike?"

"Bitlet, luv. Our daughter. I think she saw you, in a slayer dream." At the mention of the latter, Buffy cringed. The dreams that invaded her mind during her coma reintegrated themselves into her now conscious mind. Not fully able to comprehend them, she pulled Spike a little tighter and burrowed her face into his chest. Spike assumed it was at the mention of their daughter's name and he stroked her back and reassured her that everything was okay. 

"I know, luv. I know you wanna see Bitlet and Dawn and the others. I'll ring them right away." He moved to get up but her slayer strength kept him bolted to her side. "Luv, what's wrong?" He asked and lifted her chin up with his finger. Her eyes had once again filled with tears and Spike frowned at the display. He shrugged it off immediately, assuming she was so happy to see her friends again. 

"Don't go," she murmured and her hands pulled him even closer, if that were possible.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, luv. I was just gonna call the Scoobies. 

"No," she said and ran her fingers through his hair. "Not…not yet. I--I just want to have you to myself for a little while. I want you to hold me. Will you hold me?" she asked and he almost withered at the fear in her tone. 

Nodding to her, Spike pulled his tiny slayer closer, burying his face in her hair that, somehow still smelled of vanilla and spices. He smiled when she kicked the covers off and snaked her leg between his. 

He listened to each beat of her heart, each breath that she drew as it all started to even out. But before she succumbed to sleep, Buffy whispered to Spike, "Love me forever?" 

Spike nuzzled her hair and closed her eyes. How could he tell her that, no matter what, he would always love her? That no one else would ever have his heart like she did? There was so much he wanted to tell her but now was not the time. As much as he wanted to write sonnets about his love for her, as much as he wanted to tell her he loved her in every language known to man and demon alike, he also knew that sometimes, the simplest of answers were often the most poignant. Armed with that knowledge, Spike whispered to her just how long he would love her. 

"Till the end of the world, luv. Till the end of the world." 

TBC…


	9. The Road Home

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 8

__

The Road Home

****

Sunnydale 

May 16th, 2002

10:08 a.m. 

"So you're sure you're okay?" Willow asked pensively. 

"I'm fine, Wills, really," Buffy said in amused exasperation at her best friend's query. Between the lot of them--Giles, Willow, Tara, Dawn and Faith--they had poked and prodded Buffy about her well-being at least a dozen times in the thirty some-odd minutes they had been there. 

"We only wish to make sure of that fact, Buffy," Giles said, patting her arm. Despite the smothering sensation, Buffy smiled. She had slept in Spike's arm for the better part of the morning, curiously undisturbed by the staff until around eight. The doctor had checked her out then, thoroughly surprised at her strong vitals and he had allowed her to call her family. She chuckled as she remembered Dawn, Faith and Willow squeezing through the door simultaneously before surrounding Buffy in a group hug. Giles and Tara had been next, waiting for the others to gather themselves. No one, not even Giles had staved off the tears and that had made Buffy cry even harder. She cried for what she had lost, a friend in Anya and Xander, news Spike had told her begrudgingly; and for the family before her, the family that had almost lost her a second time. 

But now, with Dawn and Faith on either side of the bed, their hands on her shoulders, Willow and Tara sitting at the edge and Giles not too far off to the side, she felt a bit safer. Completely safe, no, because that would have meant that Spike would have had to have been there. 

"Hey," she said and peered into each corner of the room, "where is the platinum bad boy?" 

"He went outside for some fresh air," Dawn said from her position on Buffy's left. 

"Doesn't he know that sunlight and vamps don't mix?" Buffy asked rhetorically. 

"No, Mum," Faith interjected, "he said he wanted you to have time alone with your family."

"Okay, I get that. But why isn't he here? He's just as much family as any of us." 

"You know how Daddy is, Mum." 

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Intimately." Buffy frowned when they stared at her, wide eyed, until she backtracked over her words. When the meaning became apparent, her cheeks flushed and she covered her face with her hands. 

"And I had to live with these two," Faith said dryly. "Two decades. It's amazing I'm still sane." 

"Well I wouldn't go that far," Dawn muttered, garnering a death glare from her niece. 

"And what is that supposed to mean, Ms. Buzzsaw?" 

"Ms. Buzzsaw? What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means? That you snore like you're choppin' down a bleedin' forest of redwoods." 

"Do not." 

"Do to." 

"Do not." 

"Do too." 

"Do-"

"Dawn," Buffy shouted in annoyance. "Not to gang up on you or anything, but Faith is right. You do tend to snore a bit." 

The brunette opened her mouth to speak but, upon seeing the apologetic and frayed countenance of her sister, held her tongue. She didn't even allow Faith's smug smirk crawl under her skin. Not this time at least. 

"Okay," Giles said, and pulled his glasses off, "now that we are done with the Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny hour, I suggest we all get something to eat and let Buffy get her rest for an hour or so before inundating her with our less than civil behavior." Everyone but Faith and Dawn chuckled, the two of them sticking their tongues out at the watcher. 

"My point exactly," was his only reply as he slid his glasses back on. 

"A-are you sure we want to eat something from downstairs?" Tara asked timidly. "Because, as much as we love you Buffy, don't really wanna join you in here because we get a hold of some staphylococcus surprise." 

"Dear Lord," Giles said and threw his head back. "It's spreading."

"Wow, Giles," Willow said, "two jokes in under a minute. That must be a personal best for you. So, what are you going to do for an encore." The Brit rolled his eyes, not even dignifying the jibe with a response. 

"Giles is right," Dawn said, "you do need some rest and, as much as I am not looking forward to the stale treats that the have waiting for us downstairs, I do need to eat something." She was silent for a moment before her face brightened. "Of course, if Tara is feeling _super _nice today, I could ride into town with her and pick up something at the strip. We could even smuggle you in something. Maybe…Subway?" 

"And of course your altruism is pure as the driven snow, with no underlying intentions to see a certain boyfriend that just so happens to work in a clothing store two spots down from said Subway," Faith imparted saintly. 

Dawn glared at her before trying to hide behind the innocent façade that worked so well when she was little, hoping it would work in spades. 

"Boyfriend?" Buffy asked incredulously before glaring at her little sister. 

"Ha ha, boyfriend," the brunette said, trying to laugh it off and, at the same time, avoid staring daggers at her niece--well, at least until big sister wasn't glaring down her throat. "You know, Buffy, boyfriend as in he's a boy and just so happens to be my friend. Just like Xander." The minute the words left her mouth, Dawn bit her lip. The festive mood that had littered the room shriveled up instantly and the six occupants looked at everything but one another. 

"So, you wanna go to Subway, huh?" Tara finally spoke, breaking up the tense silence. "Okay. Buffy? You want anything?"

The slayer smiled half-heartedly. "Surprise me." She looked pointedly at Dawn. "But no 'Dawn Specials'. Got it?" 

The barb had the desired effect and Dawn sighed dramatically before huffing. She grabbed Willow by the arm and pulled her off the bed. Faith wasn't too far behind with Tara in tow. 

"Giles?" Tara called over her shoulder.

"Go ahead without me." 

"Okay," Faith said, "but we're gonna let Dawn pick out your treat." 

"Thrilling," he deadpanned as the two women disappeared out the door. Pulling up a chair, he sat next to Buffy and took her hand in his, reading the questions before they tumbled out of her mouth. 

"So what happened?" She asked. "I mean, Spike told me the gist of it but--but not all of it. Not how." For some reason or another, the abbreviated version Spike had given her earlier wasn't enough--she had to know it all, no matter how graphic it turned out to be. 

Giles sighed."When we arrived, Xander and I attacked two of the Jct'ars. They were much too powerful and battle savvy for us. We really didn't stand a chance. From what Xander said before he…he was down and one was going in for the kill before Anya intercepted it. It slashed her with its claws." The watcher ripped off his glasses and peered at the ceiling, unashamed at the tears falling down his face. 

"The wound proved fatal. She--she died in his arms." 

Buffy closed her eyes, the warm trickle of tears the only sensation she felt aside from the piercing ache in the middle of her chest. Anya was dead. Anya. 'Money hungry, say things that no one dared say' Anya was dead. Willow had told Buffy how the former vengeance demon had reacted to Joyce's death and from then Buffy had seen her as a true friend, someone that loved and hurt just like the others. She had known that before but had never really understood the woman that had taken Xander's heart. Now, after hearing what she did, sacrificing herself for the man she loved, Buffy couldn't stop the cowl of guilt that threatened to coat her for not spending more time with Anya. 

"Oh, Giles," she cried and pulled the watcher into an impromptu embrace. It lasted several minutes, both of them consoling the other, before Buffy's sobs abated. Wiping her face, she forced her mind back to what she could do something about. 

"I can imagine what Xander's going through. Has he--has he contacted you guys at all?" 

"I'm afraid not, Buffy. We've heard neither hide nor hair of him since he disappeared." 

"Have you tried tracking him down? I mean, he couldn't have gotten too far before you guys found out he was missing. Right?" It only took a single look from Giles to answer her question. Buffy sighed tiredly. The happiness she had felt not forty-five minutes ago had dissipated entirely. Xander, her best male friend had watched his love die, something that Buffy was all too familiar with. She understood him, understood the blinding pain and self-hatred for letting it happen. She understood the unshakable urge to get away from things, to run as far away as you could. She had done that once when she had killed Angel. But at least she knew that she had saved the world in doing it. But Anya? What did her death do but cause more pain to the people Buffy loved? 

"Do you think he'll come back, Giles?" Buffy asked. She had wanted so desperately for Giles to lie to her, to tell her that Xander just needed a few months away to deal with his grief, but she knew that her surrogate father would only tell her the truth. 

"I don't know Buffy," he answered. "I honestly don't know." 

*&*

**__**

Mexico City, Mexico

May 16th, 2002

Late Evening

The tobacco scent of the cigarette hanging from his lips deadened the stale air of the bar, something Xander was very thankful for. 

_Now I know how vampires feel, _he thought amusedly. _All this nastiness, this filth around them; heightened senses you can't turn off. _

"At least they don't have to breathe," he said aloud as a particularly funky demon walked in front of him. He flicked the fag to the floor, grinding it out with the tip of his boots trying to ignore the demon, which had now stopped in front of him. 

"Did you say something, amigo?" The demon asked. 

"Don't remember addressing you, my man," Xander replied. He cut his eyes up at the demon before settling back to the floor. "So why don't you be a good little demon and skedaddle on out before it gets not so comfortable for you." He flashed the demon a quick smile, making sure it saw the red tint of his eyes. 

"Ay," Slime Guy said. "So the rumors are true, are they not?"

"Depends on the rumor," the brunette replied coolly before tilting back the shot glass and draining it of its whiskey contents. 

The demon leaned forward, invading Xander's space, its slime dripping onto the fabric of his black jeans. "The rumor of a gringo, traveling through Mexico, butchering demons. No name, no face. Nothing but a set of red eyes that are brighter than hell itself." 

"Heard that, too."

"I'll bet you have, extranjero. Le rasgaré abierto y alimentaré en sus entrañas." The demon growled and pulled back its talons…

Before it had a chance to make a move, Xander unsheathed the machete on the side of his leg and rammed it into the demon's gut before ripping it upward with all his unnatural strength, splitting the creature in half. 

The other patrons, human and demon alike, watched in mild interest before turning back to their respective conversations. Xander watched the dead husk crumble into a crystal pile at his feet. He stared from his blade to the demon and back again. 

"Well, at least I don't have to clean this up," he said and replaced the machete back into its sheathe. He rotated his head to the side, getting out the kinks before tossing the money on the table and exiting into the evening air. 

It had been two weeks since he had woken to find his master gone, no trace of the other demon anywhere in the cottage. Xander had known instinctively that his teacher hadn't just slipped out for a morning walk. No, Diohbin-Zi was gone for good. 

"Do you really think this is the right thing for me to do?" Xander whispered to the heated night. Even after the few weeks he had had to adjust, Xander still felt the ache of his teacher's absence. For three years (well, at least that's how time passed for him) the Elwvenian had been Xander's only companion. There had been no Buffy. No Willow. No Anya. 

The night warrior sighed heavily at the loss of his love. Though time had passed faster than him than in this world, the pang that Anya's memory brought to him was just as new as when it first happened, the only difference being that, now, he did not show his pain. It was hidden under a mask of steel, leather and Kevlar, buried deep within him, never again to be tapped. 

"Never again," he muttered and chuckled to himself. He had said the same thing when he had left Sunnydale. He had promised himself he would never return. But he had also promised to keep Anya safe and look where that got him. 

"Can't say that I don't like the improvement," he said, staring at his reflection in the tinted windows of his van. What he didn't say, didn't have to say, was that he would trade all his strength and skills for one more night with the woman that still talked to him while he slept. He had never known that love could be so strong. Even his love for Cordelia and long-standing infatuation with Buffy had not been close to the sheer joy Xander felt whenever Anya smiled at him. The way her voice was so even when she said things others couldn't even whisper. Even when she annoyed him, Xander would love her just a little bit more, shaking his head at how he got to be so lucky. 

Now, the only luck he had was not being weak anymore, not being the Zeppo. He was important now, fighting the good fight he had started with Buffy so long ago, except that, this time, he could fend for himself. He could fight by Buffy's side without her having to look out for him. He could finally look out for her and Willow, never again to be pushed to the background while Spike had the slayer's back…

"For someone hell-bent on never going back, Harris, you sure have done a lot of thought about what would be different." His fingers traced the scruff of his beard in the mirror before he opened the door and hopped into the van. Looking at the clock and figuring that he would stop once more on the way, Xander estimated that he would arrive in Sunnydale tomorrow night. Of course he had no idea how long it would be before he re-introduced himself to the others. He wondered if his new physical prowess was enough for him to stand up to the accusatory words and scrutinous glares that were surely awaiting him. 

"And I called Buffy an idiot when she ran away." He sighed again. Buffy. The girl that had, above all others, driven him to becoming a better man. Oh, there had been others who were integral in his transformation. Willow. Cordelia. Anya, of course. Giles and the others. But Buffy—when he had first seen her strength, Xander envied the man who would have what it took to have her heart. He knew that he had been inferior but that didn't stop him from trying. And look where it had gotten him. 

Shaking the past away, Xander focused on the future as he pulled out of the lot. His mind replayed Diohbin-Zi's last words to him; "_You must go back," _he had said. _"They need you. The Key, the slayer, the witches, the vampire and the child. And others. Others that you know but will not expect to be there. You are the final piece of the puzzle, the furthest away. "_

Though he didn't know what the words meant, Xander trusted Diohbin-Zi more than he had ever trusted anyone. He knew the Elwvenian would never lie to him—obfuscate, yes--but not out and out lie. Whatever was coming up, was definitely of the bad and Xander only hoped that he was up to the challenge. 

__

They're counting on me and they don't even know it, the brunette thought amusedly as he turned onto the highway. The only other time that had happened, the confrontation with Jack O'Toole in the basement of the high school, he had come through. He had the feeling that, this time, things would be decidedly more difficult. 

"But I'm ready," he reminded himself. "Ready as I'll ever be." And that was the truth. Even through all his training over the last three years and his previous six fighting with Buffy, Xander knew that there were still things more deadly, more horrible than he had ever seen. And though he understood that, he didn't kid himself—when things were said and done, he might be one of the casualties of war. 

"Dying a hero. Not a bad ring to it," he said and started on a tune he and Willow used to sing together. He was on the road home, on his way to defend and fight with the people he called family. 

And if Xander Harris died doing that, well, he couldn't think of a better way to go. 

TBC…


	10. Feels Like Home to Me

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 9

__

Feels Like Home to Me

__ ****

Sunnydale

May 18th, 2002

3:29 p.m. 

"I'll get it," Dawn yelled to the three inhabitants in the living room. 

"You're just trying to get out of putting the banner up," Willow called back. 

"And it worked like a charm," the brunette muttered with a smirk before picking up the cordless from its base in the hall. "Summers residence." 

"My aren't we uppity today," the familiar voice said. Dawn shivered from the sexuality that dripped from the tone. 

"Well," she replied and desperately attempted to don the patented tone of teenage indifference. "Speak of the devil and he will appear." 

"So, you were thinking about me." It was not a question. 

"How do you figure?" 

"Weeell, you did just say 'speak of the…" 

"I know what I said, smart ass," Dawn retorted, knowing she was beaten. 

"Touchy, Touchy." Dawn heard the smugness of the caller's voice and wanted nothing more than to…

"What did you say?" She demanded. 

"I asked if it was, you know, that time of the…" 

"If you even _think _about finishing that sentence, C.J., I will so kick your ass-" 

"Dawn," Giles said, poking his head out in the hall. "Whose on the phone." 

"Uh…Janice!" The teen replied a bit too eagerly and she crossed her fingers when she saw the fatherly scowl she had received from Giles much too often. 

"I see," he said and the Key knew he was totally unconvinced. "Well tell, _Janice _that we will be needing your assistance with the rest of the decorations. Buffy and Spike will be back from the hospital within the hour." 

"Uh, sure, yeah," she sputtered, nodding extra-emphatically. "We just have to talk about--her summer school assignment. I'll be there in two shakes," she finished and 'shooed' Giles away, much to his bemusement. 

"Teenagers," the Brit muttered to himself before walking back into the living room. 

"Old British Guy on ya again?" C.J. asked sympathetically. 

"You can say that." 

"So big sis is coming home today," C.J. said, changing the subject. 

"Yep," Dawn said and her voice perked up instantly. "Bout damn time, too." 

"Uh, sweetie, she was in a coma." 

"Yeah, I know," Dawn replied. She was torn between sadness and excitement. The former was the pain in remembering how it felt to almost lose Buffy again and the latter--"Did you just call me 'sweetie'?" 

"Did I?" C.J. asked nonplussed. They had been talking on the phone ever since the beach incident a few weeks back and not once in that time had he ever used such an affectionate term without a hint of teasing behind his words. 

"That you did," the brunette replied, unable to hide her nervousness. 

"Well I, uh…" 

"Freudian slip?" She asked and could feel C.J. roll his eyes. 

"Whatever, Kiddo." 

"I am not a kid," she spat back. 

"Sing me a new song, why don't ya." C.J. cooed and chuckled when Dawn sighed dramatically into the phone. "So, when do I get an invite?" 

"C.J.," Dawn said as if talking to a child, "I already told you. Spike would kill you if he knew how old you are. Of course, on the cosmic scale I am about a zillion times older than you," she said with the last part being to herself.

"Huh?" 

"Oh, nothing. And besides Spike, Buffy's getting back today and we don't even have to mention Faith." 

"Let's not," C.J. agreed, shuddering as he remembered the very serious, and creative, threats Faith had thrown to him one night she had discovered the two on the phone. C.J. had to admit that Faith--well, she was one intimidating chick. 

"You're scared? Of a girl?" Dawn teased and giggled when C.J. huffed into the receiver. 

"Whatever, _Dawnie,_" he retorted sarcastically and was rewarded by the annoying whine of buttons being depressed. "And you say you aren't a kid." 

"Bite me, C.J." 

"All I'm looking for is the chance, sweetheart." Dawn flushed at the seductive tone and took several deep breaths before she tried to speak. 

"So, I'll talk to you later?" She said, pleased that her voice did not totally give away her dignity. 

"Just give me a call, if you want. I know it's a big deal, havin' Buffy back. You guys may want to catch up." 

Dawn snorted. "The only thing Buffy's going to be catching up on is boinking Spike." 

"And thank you for the imagery," Faith said and Dawn squealed in surprise, nearly dropping the phone. 

"Is that the big bully?" C.J. asked. 

"Yeah, it's her," Dawn replied as she held a palm over her racing heart. 

"Well, let me get off here before…" 

"Is that C.J.?" 

"…she asks to speak to me…" 

"Let me speak to him." 

"…and threatens me with any more bodily harm." 

"Dawn! Give me the phone." 

"Okay, C.J. Talk to you later, bubye." And before Faith could snatch it away, Dawn pressed the off button. "So, what's up?" She asked Faith cheerfully. 

"You little biatch," Faith swore and crossed her arms, staring at her future Aunt scornfully. "You know I wanted to talk to him."

"Whatever," Dawn scoffed and walked towards the living room. "So you can tell him how you're gonna bugger him with his own wanker if he hurts me? Get the overprotection enough Faith without my _niece _getting in on the act." 

"A _niece _who is seven years your elder," the blonde remarked. 

"Look," Dawn said, her eyes imploring, "we're just friends, okay." On Faith's less than believing glare, Dawn sighed. "Okay, so maybe I have a tiny crush on him. It's not like we're dating anyway."

"Remember, Dawn, it's me you're talking to; the same person who you were with last week when we ran into him in the mall. It's not just a crush. Not for him and certainly not for you." 

Dawn's eyes brightened at Faith's words and couldn't help but tumble the older woman's words back and forth. 

"He—he likes me?" She whispered to Faith as if she were afraid the words would shatter the hope burgeoning in her chest. 

Faith's once intent scowl melted into a gentle smile. "How could he not, Dawn? I mean, look at you. You're smart, witty and fun to be around—not to mention that you're becoming one hot chica." They both chuckled at that before Faith sobered up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Dawn's ear. 

"But you're only fifteen, Dawnie…" 

"About to be sixteen." 

"And he's—what? —Nineteen? Twenty?" 

"When Buffy was my age, her boyfriend was two centuries older than her. What's the big about four years?" 

Faith shrugged. "You got me there. Still, I don't want you to get hurt—"

"I know," Dawn conceded, "but I can't be protected all my life from things." 

"Understood. Okay, here's the deal; I get to threaten C.J. one more time and you get to tell Buffy _and _Spike about him." 

"Do I have to?" The teen whined. 

"It's either that or they find out, ground you, then beat him down." 

"Fine," Dawn grumbled and slunk back into the living room after Faith slung her arm around the teen's shoulders. 

"It'll be okay, sweetie. You'll see." 

"As if. You and I both know that Buffy's gonna hate this." 

"No she won't," Faith replied, her voice lacking any conviction. _Oh, she's gonna hate it, all right. She's gonna hate it big time. _

****

May 18th, 2002

3:42 p.m. 

"Correction, Spike," Buffy said as he wheeled her through the halls, "I don't hate this." 

"You don't?" 

"I _loathe _it," she growled, folding her arms across her chest. 

"It'll be all right, luv," Spike said before he deposited a kiss to the back of her head. "We'll be to the car in no time and you'll be outta this soddin' thing." 

"I feel like such an invalid." 

"Preachin to the choir, luv." On her sarcastic look, he snorted derisively. "You know what I mean, luv. Remember a particularly stuck up bint dropping a bloody hefty organ on my back some time ago." 

Buffy ducked her head at the memory of that night in the church. Even though she and Spike were mortal enemies then, Buffy couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for putting Spike in that wheelchair for months. She shuddered at the passing thought of being trapped within your own body, unable to do for yourself and dependent on others for assistance. She wasn't sure that she could have done it, not without going insane. It was yet another example of the strength her lover possessed. 

Spike laid a hand on Buffy's shoulder while the other continued pushing her forward. "Now, none of that, pet," he said, somehow knowing where her thoughts had led her. "You know very well that we were all with the mortal enemies bit then, no use feelin' guilty over it." 

"How did you…"

"Know? Simple really," he said and turned the corner that led to the parking garage. "Feel guilty myself for some of the things we did—said to each other back then. Makes no sense, considering what we were to each other." 

"Equals," Buffy said prophetically. 

"That we were." 

"Still are, bleach boy," she said before reaching behind her and pinching his thigh. 

"Oy!" 

"And don't you forget it." 

"Trust me, Slayer, I won't." The double doors slid open as they reached the exit. The de Soto was conveniently parked by the doors, much to the chagrin of a few people in the garage. Ignoring several sarcastic comments sent his way, Spike helped Buffy to her feet and into the car, surprised at her lack of protests. He hustled the wheelchair back into the hospital and jogged back out, sliding over the hood of the car. 

"You are a nut," Buffy said when he closed the driver's side door. "Do you know that? You are a grade-A nut." 

"Coulda told you that, luv. Toothless vampire falls in love with his mortal enemy." He frowned. "Yep. William the Bloody; the epitome of nutcase." 

"But I love my 'nutcase'," Buffy cooed and pulled Spike across the seat and towards her, their lips meeting in a searing kiss. 

Their tongues moved in a familiar dance, a dichotomous war of dominance and submission as hands roamed indiscriminately under clothing and across flesh. It was too much yet not enough and both realized that a simple kiss, however potent, would not satiate the hunger that burned through their bodies, culminating in a needful ache in their lower extremities. 

Spike pulled away, albeit reluctantly, and smiled at the whine elicited by the slayer. 

"Now none of that, pet," he whispered. His lips traced her jaw line before descending on her jugular. Buffy groaned at the contact and grabbed the lapels of Spike's duster as her need to have him against her, inside her, nearly overwhelmed her. 

"Buffy," Spike murmured against her flesh and she shuddered at the poetic beauty his voice gave to her name. Even when she had felt as if nothing else was right in the world a few months back, Spike whispering her name was like an adrenaline shot to the heart, giving her the desire to live for those precious few hours they shared together. Now, she wanted to live more than ever and yet craved him all the same. 

"Buffy," Spike repeated when the slayer's deft fingers crawled down his chest and settled on the hem of his jeans. It took a will power he never knew he possessed to reach down and grasp Buffy's wrist and pull it away from his raging hard-on. "Come now, pet," he said, all the while taking deep, unnecessary breaths. 

"God, Spike," she whined, "I need you so bad. Want you so bad." 

The vampire groaned and bit his lip to hold back a sob of frustration. "Cor, luv. Want you more than anything…oh God," he gasped when she bit down on his neck. Spike let go of her wrist and his own hands roamed the small figure in front of him. 

"Buffy," he pleaded, "not here, luv." 

"But I need you, baby," she begged as her small hands massaged the bulge in the front of his pants. 

"I need you, too, pet." He forced her hands away gently and looked her in the eyes. His resolve nearly crumbled when he saw the naked longing in her shimmering hazel jewels but steadied himself. "I need you more than ever right about now, but we're in the middle of bleedin' garage and, as much as I want you, I don't fancy Geriatric Joe over there finally getting a stiffy after a decade because he saw my woman's arse." 

Buffy tried to give him the 'look' but Spike stuck his jaw out in determination. Seeing that he wasn't going to relent (and that, God help her, he was totally right), Buffy slouched in her seat, crossing her arms. 

"Fine," she grunted. 

Knowing that his control was razor thin, Spike put the de Soto in gear and peeled out of the parking lot, ignoring several guys who gave him thumbs up on the way out. 

"Besides," he said after pulling onto the street, "you're probably knackered anyway." 

"Whatever. You know we're gonna have to wait for awhile once we get home, don't you?" 

"Bugger that. We'll give the Scoobs a few hours o' face time with you and then you'll play the tired routine. I wait a spell before followin' you up and then--voila--we shag like bunnies." 

"You think?" She asked and a her lips twisted in the slightest smile. 

"Trust me, luv," Spike said and patted Buffy's leg. "Just trust me." 

**__**

May 18th, 2002

10:42 p.m. 

" 'Trust me', he said," Buffy whispered fiercely into Spike's ear. Alone time for the couple had yet to be discovered since they had walked through the door. Spike had let Buffy enter the premises first, smiling as he watched her walk to the door. Earlier that day, they had decided to give Buffy a 'Welcome Home' party. The living room was decorated with store bought banners of _Welcome Back, Glad you're feeling better, _to the more creative ones of _Sunnyhell missed you _and _Can't keep a good Slayer down. _Buffy didn't see the decorations right away because, once through the door, she had been instantly bombarded by a gangle of feminine arms as Faith, Dawn, Willow and Tara enveloped her in a group hug. Tears were shed and the four had plopped down on the couch as Giles welcomed his slayer home. Spike had rushed in around that time, his blanket smoking and greeted the others. He had smiled inwardly to himself, counting the hours before he and Buffy could slip away from the prying eyes of family. 

That was nearly seven hours ago. In that time, Buffy had been carted off with Giles and Faith for an hour, was subjected to Dawn's gossip and chatted in depth with Tara about the Wicca's back injury. Add the double movie feature and pizza party to the mix and one had a very frustrated vampire and slayer. 

"Didn't know they were gonna stick to you like a bloody second skin," Spike muttered and was promptly shushed by Faith. 

"This is the best part," she informed the blonde duo before turning back to the television. 

"I'll say," Spike said and planted a quick kiss on Buffy's neck. Such stolen gestures by the platinum blonde were the only things that kept the slayer afloat. Even during their make-out session in the car, Buffy still felt the grogginess of taking a two-month nap and the emotional homecoming didn't help matters. She had trucked through the day, a tired energy pushing her forward and she had thought she would pass through the day unscathed. That is, of course, until Giles had taken her and Faith to the side to discuss the latter's dreams. When Buffy had asked the chat to be postponed until the next day, Giles had replied that he had a feeling that she at least hear it without the prying eyes of the others who knew about it already. Though she wasn't too happy with being pulled away from Spike, Buffy had listened as Faith told her mother about the slayer dreams and with each passing description, a sliver of ice climbed up Buffy's spine. Though she had not thought about the dreams she had had during the coma all day, Faith's words awakened the visions that had plagued Buffy. 

It took a Herculean effort for Buffy not to break down into tears at the memory of the things she had seen. After they had finished, she had instantly retreated to Spike, kissing him flushly in front of the others before she suggested the movie night. 

Spike knew something had upset Buffy but decided not to pry. So he had sat for the past three and a half hours with the love of his unlife curled against his side and endured the torture of having her so close yet unable to express his love towards her properly. 

"That bone sword-slash-whip is kinda cool," Buffy said and stifled a giggle when Faith's shoulders tensed in excitement as the final conflict in _Brotherhood of the Wolf _reached its pinnacle. 

"Wasn't talkin bout that, luv," Spike said and deftly squeezed her boob before his hand returned to its idle position on her left shoulder. Buffy surprised him by not jumping and he whispered in her ear, "Movie's almost over--and you know what that means?" 

If the words were said by anyone else, Buffy would have dismissed them. But the way they rolled of Spike's tongue--she shivered at the sensuality of his tone and the promise it hinted out. _Damn him, _she thought. _He could probably make eating tofu sound sexy. _The slayer's body perked up as warm desire slowly started to build within her, erasing the bad memories of the earlier conversation with Giles and Faith as well as the residual sluggishness from inaction. Oh, she had enough energy to…

The buzz of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts and Buffy sighed. 

"Who the bloody hell," Spike muttered and glared at the door when a knock disturbed the group.

"I wonder who that could be at this hour," Giles said. 

"Maybe they have the wrong house," Willow offered and continued to stroke Tara's hair. 

"Th-that could be," the blonde Wicca replied. 

"Or," Dawn said and threw another kernel of popcorn in her mouth, "it could be a hoard of demons that want us dead yet have the decency to knock instead of bursting down the door and sending our homeowners insurance through the stratosphere." 

"I'm so sure," Buffy replied sarcastically. Dawn's reply was to stick out her tongue and hurl a kernel at her big sister. Buffy caught it in her hand and popped the corn into her mouth before scowling triumphantly. 

"Well," Faith said, motioning to get up, "only one way to find out." 

"That's okay, 'let," Spike said and dislodged himself from Buffy's petite form. They both groaned at the loss of contact and everyone but Giles gave the blonde duo a bemused look. "I'll get it. Scare away the buggers." 

"I'll help you," Buffy said eagerly and hopped off the couch. Spike offered her a smug smirk before she shooed him towards the door. 

"No boinking in front of company," Dawn called to the retreating couple. 

"Thank you Dawn for that reminder," Giles scoffed and removed his glasses. "As if a certain redhead's 'Thy will be done' spell didn't give me enough nightmares." 

Willow ducked her head sheepishly. "That was a long time ago," she huffed before burying her head in the crook of Tara's neck. 

"Just couldn't stand to be away from me, eh, luv?" Spike said and pulled Buffy close to him. His back was towards the living room, shielding them if prying eyes decided to investigate. 

"You know I can't," Buffy replied and smiled when Spike's eyes widened in shock. "Didn't think I'd tell you the truth, did ya?" 

"That I didn't, pet. But enough words. C'mere," he ordered and Buffy gasped as he crushed his lips to hers. His tongue invaded her mouth as his hands cupped her butt and it was all that she could do not to wrap her legs around his waist. Instead, she dropped her hands to the bulge that pressed intimately against her stomach and squeezed. Spike growled at the stimulation of her hands against his throbbing erection and Buffy smirked in satisfaction. 

Spike broke away first and leaned his forehead against hers. The sound of her heartbeat was a soothing melody to him, matching her enchanting vanilla scent and goddess-like beauty. And the way she felt in his arms--Cor!

"That's cheating, you know," he told her as they both panted for breath. 

"I remember you saying that before," she teased, "and you didn't mind it then, either." 

"Yeah, and I bloody well kicked you out o' the crypt, too, didn't I?" 

"Which was very mean, by the way." Spike sighed when Buffy's lips jutted out. 

"Stop with the pouting, luv, 's really not fair." 

"I'd hate to interrupt your little soiree," Giles called from the living room, "but it would be nice if you stopped whomever is outside from ringing the bloody doorbell." 

The two blondes couldn't help but laugh at the watcher's exasperation and Spike's hand reached for the door. 

"Guess we forgot the part about answering the door, huh?" Buffy asked as her hand covered his on the handle. 

"Guess so. But considering I had you in my arms, 's understandable." 

"Awww," Buffy cooed and kissed him on the cheek before she pulled back and scrutinized the blue eyes that gazed so lovingly back at her. "You aren't just trying to butter me up for later, are you?" 

"Maybe," he said. "Gotta get all the time I can with you lest you come to your senses and get yourself a real bloke." Though his tone was joking, Buffy heard the serious undercurrent of his words. 

__

He still thinks I'm gonna change my mind, she thought sadly and wondered if there was any way to convince him otherwise. 

"Spike," she said and slid her arm around his hip, "you know I love you." 

"For now," he muttered and opened the door. 

Anger coursed through Buffy at Spike's flippant tone. "What do I have to do to prove to you that I love…" just as she was about the finish, the door flew open to reveal the last person she expected to see. 

"…Angel?" 

TBC…

__

Am I mean? Go ahead, say it. I know you think I am. 

__


	11. The Prodigal

Severed Ties 

**Chapter 10**

**_Sunnydale_**

**_May 18th, 2002_**

****

**_10:38 p.m. _**

****

****

****

****It was an easy kill. 

            The three had been in Sunnydale for the past two years and together a few years before that as well.  Though Gideon was the only one in the trio more than a decade into the immortal life, the other two were cunning and resourceful. Those were the only reasons they had stayed alive this long, in a town owned by the slayer. As well as they worked together they knew to stay away from the slayer and her gang, using the outskirts of town as their hunting grounds, away from prying eyes. But tonight they had made one of their infrequent visits to the cemetery. Heberly. 

            They had followed the young black man for the better part of an hour, making noises here and there, relishing in the fear that scorched his face every time he looked back. They were waiting, biding their time until he panicked and ran; that was when his blood would be the sweetest. And oh, would it be sweet. 

            Even from the dozen yards separating them from the boy, they could tell that he was an athlete. His black shirt clung to the muscles in his back and arms and though his slightly baggy jeans hid the strength of his legs, the young man's gait was that of a runner. And before this night was over, they would make him run before tearing him down. Or that had been the plan. 

            "I'm tired of this, Gideon," the smallest of the trio, Kyle, whispered. 

            "Kyle's right, G," the pug-nosed Marco agreed. 

            Gideon stopped and stared at his two minions. No, that was not the right word for them. For the most part, he treated them as equals. Kyle had been with him the longest. He had sired the former computer nerd six years ago in Ohio on his cross-country jaunt out the West Coast. They had traveled a few years before meeting Marco in a San Antonio bar. Where Kyle was weak yet crafty, Marco was powerful and somewhat dim. They were the perfect compliment to one another and Gideon had planned it that way. They were the brothers he never had and, though on occasion, he had been forced to dominate them, Gideon had always allowed them to have some say in things and, he found, on occasion that they sometimes had the right idea. 

            Like now. 

            "You're right, Marco," he said and fixed the larger man with a withering glare. "And after we are done with him, I will demonstrate to you reason number forty-two why you should refrain from calling me 'G'." The larger vampire nodded, swallowing reflexively at his sire's promise. Oh, yeah, he was buggered tonight--quite literally. Aside from his habit of calling his Sire 'G', Marco had rarely needed to be reminded of who the boss really was. _Guess tonight'll be another spectacular reminder, _he thought fearfully. But, on the bright side, at least he would have some decent blood in his veins before that happened. 

            "Kyle," Gideon said as he watched the boy retreat into the distance, "stay behind him. Marco; take him on the left and I'll come in on the right." He faced his two Children and vamped out; they instantly followed suit and their golden irises glowed eerily in the darkness. 

            "Chow time, my boys," he said to the others and, with a nod, they split up. 

            They never saw the cocky grin on the young man's face as he followed them, his senses attuned to their every move. They never heard his eager whisper of "Showtime" the instant before they pounced. And it was not until the glint of silver arching through the air did they realize that this unsuspecting young man was much more than that. And before they could react, it was far too late. They had had been right about one thing, however. 

            It was an easy kill. 

            Three to be exact. 

*&*

**_Sunnydale_**

**_May 18th, 2002_**

****

**_10:40 p.m. _**

            He parked three blocks away from Revello Drive knowing that the loud thrum of the van's engine would have been a dead giveaway on the quiet street and Dawn's head would have been the first out the window. No, he'd much rather walk the residential streets, taking comfort in the quiet chirp of insects in the bushes as his mind wandered over the past. 

            Xander stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hunter green jacket as he followed the path towards a house that was more of a home to him than the domicile of his younger years. The people that lived there now were more family than his dysfunctional brood ever could be. 

            _And how do I repay them? _He asked himself bitterly as he passed Mercury Place. _By running off on them, like the coward I've always been. _

But didn't Buffy do the same thing? Another voice spoke up but it was quashed by the overwhelming guilt that coursed through him at the thought of his closest friend after Willow. 

            _I left. I left while she was still in the hospital, fighting for her life. And I--I didn't even give it a second thought. _His footsteps slowed as the self-loathing, the one that had driven him to leave in the first place reappeared, threatening to crush him despite the superhuman abilities that coursed through his veins. 

            _What if…what if she died? What would they think of me? Not being there when they needed me. What if they don't want anything to do with me? _

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and let out a hoarse laugh. The insecurities that danced in his mind were the same ones that had propelled him out of Sunnydale. As much as Anya's death had affected him, Xander would never have left with Buffy and Tara hospitalized if he had thought that he was an asset to the group. But he hadn't been and so he didn't stay. But he would this time. Diohbin-Zi had said that something big was coming and Xander would be needed for the upcoming battle and that was why the brunette was here. 

            _This isn't about my feelings or failures, _Xander resolved. _This is about what I'm here to do; and that's to help the others…_

His determination returned and his steps quickened. As he rounded to corner and found himself on Revello, however, two things happened simultaneously. Directly in his line of sight, walking up the steps were three distinctly familiar figures he hadn't seen in years. 

            Angel, with his black leather coat swaying as he walked up the steps, was in the lead followed by two very recognizable brunettes. 

            Cordelia was off to Angel's left as he stopped to ring the doorbell and Faith, the rogue slayer, was to the right. Both were decked in black outfits similar to the vampire and, though he could not see the other two clearly, the rogue slayer's face was twisted in a scowl of concentration. 

            The only thing that prevented Xander from moving forward was the unexpected chill that shot up his spine. He whirled around, his crimson eyes blazing as they cut through the darkness. Despite his enhanced vision, he could not find an immediate danger in the vicinity but the extreme unease refused to go away. 

            "What the hell?" He whispered before the pull on his spine caused his body to spasm momentarily. His mind whirled for explanation but was unable to find anything. He had trained for three years and had never felt such a violent pull on his senses. It was something—something powerful and unequivocally evil. 

            "Whatever it is has to be stopped," he said and spun on his heels. With a final look over his shoulder, he apologized to his friends before darting back to his van. Whatever the creature was giving off such strong vibes, it needed to be taken down and Xander was going to make sure of that. 

            After all, there was a reason he had been christened the Executioner.

*&*

**_Sunnydale_**

**_May 18th, 2002_**

****

**_10:49 p.m. _**

            Similar to Spike, Buffy had always taken pride in her ability to quip with the best of them. It wasn't often that she didn't have a rejoinder strapped to her hip, ready to go at a moment's notice. Whether facing the Master, a hell god or the general babblings of the **"**First Evil**"**, Buffy's mouth was usually in tiptop shape, her greatest one-liners coming in the most dangerous of times. 

            Now, that wasn't to say that there were times when her quippy quotes were nowhere to be found. Killing Angel was one of those times. Sending the love of one's life to hell tends to suck anyone's witty repertoire dry. And then, to her surprise, she could remember several instances with Spike where his presence took the words right out of her mouth. Shagging a total hot body after spending fifteen minutes wailing on his undead, soulless ass was another shining example of a slayer stupefied into silence. 

            Standing in the open doorway with her first love staring holes through her and her current paramour would definitely be added to that list of 'most uncomfortable situations ever'. 

            "Buffy," Angel said curtly as his gaze traveled between Buffy and his Childe. Ever since Faith had slipped up about Spike and Buffy's relationship, Angel had put it out of his mind as best he could, meditating and sparring to pass the time without even bothering with sleep. Though on the surface the mere thought of Buffy and Spike together was absurd, a reluctant part of him could admit to the possibility of an attraction between the two blondes. But now, as he faced both of them, taking in the slightly swollen appearance of Buffy's lips and the telltale scent of arousal, Angel knew that it wasn't just a possibility. 

            It was a Goddamn reality. 

            "Angel," Buffy replied mechanically. She stared at the man who had, so long ago, had given her that first taste of love and, not long afterwards, her first bitter heartbreak. And now, as she gazed into Angel's furious brown eyes, Buffy couldn't help but feel guilty. 

            _Why do I always feel like I'm doing something bad when he's around? _She asked herself. When she had told him about Riley, drawing it out unnecessarily to rub it in his face, Buffy had felt a stab of guilt. It wasn't for how she told him (although she could admit to being a major bitch in that instance) but the fact that she was carrying on with someone else. It had taken her months to get over the voice that constantly whispered to her about how she was cheating on Angel. And now, three years later, that same guilt wound its way through her insides. But this time it didn't last long, dissipating as she heard the annoyed (and hurt?) voice of Spike address his Sire. 

            "What do you want, Peaches?" Angel's gaze turned towards the bleached blonde and Buffy had to hold in the sigh of relief that threatened to slip out as Angel turned his attention elsewhere. 

            The two vampires stared at each other; their fists clenching and unclenching as the tension between them escalated with each passing second. Buffy chanced a look at Spike and cringed when she saw the muscle in his jaw spasm several times. _This is so not of the good, she said to herself and moved to slither in between them but the last person in the world she expected to see beat her to the punch. _

            "Angel," Faith said and pushed past the stiff vampire. "How many times do I have to tell you to cut the macho shit? We don't have time for it."

            "Faith?" Buffy whispered in disbelief. Seeing her sister slayer in living color after two years temporarily numbed Buffy's emotions. Her hazel eyes took in Faith's petite form. From the look of things, she appeared no different. She held a little more weight around the face but her hair and wardrobe hadn't changed one bit. 

            "Hey, B," Faith said, finally turning to face the blonde. She purposely leaned against Angel, hoping to calm the anger radiating from him. She smiled at Buffy and tried to hide the nervousness infecting every part of her. "Long time no see." 

            "Not long enough," the blonde replied, noticing that her words were not nearly as harsh as she wanted them to be. "What are you doing here?" She inched towards Spike and discreetly brushed her knuckles across the back of his hand and was relieved when much of the tension drained from his body. The tension migrated to her, however, when she saw the murderous glint in Angel's eyes return and Faith's lopsided smirk. Okay, so she needed to work on being discreet. 

            "So this is the stud muffin from my dreams," Faith said, ignoring Buffy's question and her eyes perused Spike's lithe form.  She pursed her lips, whistling silently before staring into cobalt jewels that shimmered with anger, fear, loathing and amusement. Not liking the other three in the least, Faith decided to play on the latter. "Much better in person." 

            Spike smirked at the small woman in front of him. There was something about her that called to him--a kindred spirit in the wild. He could see the animalistic will through her dark eyes and Spike couldn't help but take an instant liking to this woman.  

            "So I'm told, pet," he said and jumped when all the heat was sucked out of the room and was focused on the right side of his face. _Stupid git, _he cursed and turned to Buffy. Not to his surprise, the searing heat from her gaze pinned him into a corner and the vampire was thankful that a stake was nowhere to be found. 

            Buffy couldn't remember the last time she had been so furious at someone. The cavalier way that he and Faith were flirting had the slayer wanting to dust the vampire by her side and pummel that little sexy grin from the lips of the woman in front of her. A part of her knew that she was overreacting, that Spike would never do anything with any other woman but coupled with Faith past behavior towards her boyfriends and the slayer dreams of the past few days, the irrational side of Buffy refused to be talked down. When she turned back to the other slayer, Buffy's reveled in the return of the anger and dislike she still harbored towards the brunette. 

            "I will ask you one more time, Faith, and you have three seconds to answer." Her eyes briefly flickered to Angel's before settling back on the intended victim of her rage. "After that, I'm slamming the door in your face. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" She punctuated every word with a small step forward until she and the other woman were nose to nose. She smiled inwardly when Faith's smirk disappeared and was replaced by an almost fearful scowl.

            "B," Faith started and the reformed slayer felt her confidence waver. She opened her mouth to speak again but was stopped by a powerful hand grasping her shoulder gently before pushing her out of the way. 

            "Buffy," Angel said and stepped between the two slayers. "That's enough." 

            "I don't have time for this," the slayer spat and whirled around just as she felt a hand clasp her firmly around the wrist. 

            "Buffy," Angel pled, "just listen for a minute." 

            "I'd watch those hands if I were you, mate," Spike said, making himself known once again. He grabbed Buffy's forearm and deliberately pulled her arm out of Angel's grasp before fixing the elder vamp with a gaze that both slayers shivered at. 

            "We don't have time for this, Spike," Angel said and took a step forward. Spike pressed his hand against the bigger man's chest and held back the demon inside that cried for freedom. 

            "Don't take another step, mate." 

            Angel slapped the younger vampire's hand away. "Or what?" He glowered. 

            Spike flashed a deadly smirk before taking a step towards Angel as the two mimicked the slayer standoff from moments before. "Or you'll find out why I'm this town's original Big Bad."

            Buffy and Faith traded looks of apprehension at the scene unfolding before them. It was no secret that the two vampires hated each other but the women had not fathomed the sheer depth of the animosity until now. If the vampires started brawling now, even two slayers would be hard pressed to break up the fight before it reached a dusty conclusion. 

            Buffy was the first to realize this and, catching Faith's eye, she nodded to the brunette. The latter took the hint and reached her hand up towards Angel before she was pushed aside by a third figure. 

            "For the love of God, you two!" Cordelia shouted as she bull-rushed her way between the two vampires. "Will you quit with the fucking pissing contest." Her eyes turned to Angel and the vampire had the intelligence to step back. "Mr. Caveman, Faith told you that you could stay home if you were going to act like such a moron."

            "But he started it," Angel protested weakly. 

            "Of course he did," Cordelia said dryly. "He _was _the one that was shooting daggers at his ex because he caught her in the aftermath of a kissage fest behind the door with her new beau before putting his hands on her in front of said beau." She turned towards Spike and opened her mouth to speak but turned back to Angel instead. "Oh, I forgot; that was you." Angel had the grace to look sheepish and the other three fought to hide their grins as the former Prom Queen put the two hundred and fifty year old vampire in his place. 

            "As much as I'm lovin' this Cor," Faith interrupted, biting her lip to keep her grin at bay, "we do have things to discuss." She turned towards Buffy and sighed at the distrust in the other woman's eyes. "B, we need to talk." 

            Buffy folded her arms across her chest and eyed the brunette suspiciously. "So talk." 

            "Can we come in?" 

            "Buffy?" Giles called as he walked into the foyer. "Is there a problem?" 

            "You could say that," the slayer replied, never taking her eye off of Faith. 

            "What is the…Good lord," the watcher exclaimed. "Faith?" 

            "In the flesh," she said and threw a sad smile at the Brit. 

            "What's going on?" Giles demanded as he unhinged the cage holding Ripper into place, in case the latter was needed. 

            "That's what we're trying to find out, Rupes," Spike said and turned to Buffy. "Let 'em through, pet." At her astonished look, Spike laid his hands on her shoulders and fixed her with a wry smile. "You know that if I had my way, Peaches'd be stuck out there all night, preferably after getting a good old arse kickin' by yours truly before the sun finished the poofter off." He chuckled inside when his Sire bristled angrily. "But this Faith chit here is right, something is going down. You saw it. Bitlet saw it. And since she's like you two, then in all likelihood, she's seen it too. And as bad as it may be, havin' three slayers on the job's gonna tip the scales in our favor, wouldn't you say?" 

            As angry as Buffy was at everything that had happened in the past five minutes, she couldn't help but smile at the comforting voice of her lover._ How does he do that? _She wondered. _No matter how bad things are, he can do this--make me feel so much better. _Buffy raised her arms and covered his hands with hers before sliding them off her shoulders. She stared at him pointedly, giving him a tired smile before squeezing his hands firmly. 

            "I hate it when you're right," she muttered before dropping his hands and returning an icy gaze towards Faith. "Is he right? Did you see what's coming, too?" The other woman shivered and hugged herself tightly. The ice that was between them was melted as Buffy took in the now shaken woman. _She saw it, all right. And if it shakes Faith, then it's bad. Buffy glanced over her shoulder past the stoic watcher and towards the living room. __I just hope it's not as bad as what me or Bitlet saw. _

"So," Cordelia said, tapping her foot, "are you gonna let us in already?" Buffy couldn't hold back the chuckle at Cordy's bluntness. 

            "I see some things don't change," she muttered to herself before stepping aside, pulling Spike with her. "Come one, come all." Cordelia smiled and pulled Buffy into a short but warm embrace before striding towards Giles.  Angel followed her and didn't hesitate in giving his Childe a hostile glare before moving on into the living room. Buffy sighed in relief when Spike didn't rise to the bait and she turned her attention towards Faith.  __

Buffy read the discomfort in Faith's gait as she stepped over the threshold, her arms still wound tightly around her. She nodded towards the brunette and let Faith past, following her closely as Spike shut the door. She almost ran into Faith when the other slayer stopped, turned around and gave Buffy a confused look. 

            "Did he say "three slayers"?" Faith asked, nodding towards Spike. 

            Despite everything, Buffy found herself flashing a smile at the woman in front of her. Surprising herself with the gesture, Buffy patted Faith on the shoulder before escorting the brunette forward. "I see we have quite a bit to talk about."

TBC…

**N.B. **In case you're wondering, Xander will refer to his time away as three years even though he was gone in real time only a few months. Again, Chapter Three has the answers to that little question if you do not recall. 

**Next Chapter: **Xander gets a lot more than he bargained for when he comes face to face with the demonic presence disturbing his senses. Buffy and the gang talk with the LA trio about things to come. 


	12. Protect and Serve

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 11

__

Protect and Serve 

****

Sunnydale

May 18th, 2002 

10:58 p.m. 

It didn't take long for Xander to locate the disturbance. After loading himself up with weapons he allowed his instincts to take over and they had led him to Shady Groves cemetery. Nestled between Heberly and the factory district, Shady Groves wasn't the largest cemetery though it did house several crypts that vampires had often used as nests. This threat, however, had nothing to do with vampires and when he reached the middle of the cemetery grounds, ducking a slab of concrete hurled at his head, Xander wished it were as simple as a few vamps. 

He spun around to face his attacker and took an involuntary step backwards at the sight of the beast. It was at least seven and a half feet tall with muscles bulging from its shirtless torso. It's skin was the darkest of purples and was covered with an assortment of protrusions. It wasn't until he peered closer that Xander discerned what those protrusions were and he shivered at the knowledge. 

Its flesh was a canvas of blue and crimson veins that throbbed with a maniacal intensity as the wind caressed them. The moon reflected off the numerous piercings that the creature possessed. Aside from the veins, it chest was littered with chain-like links and its arms were skewered from wrists to elbows by metal spikes. Another curved spike was embedded through its nose, a disturbing compliment to the grayish tusks that protruded from the sides of its mouth. 

"Wow," Xander said as he circled the beast. "That must have hurt." 

"You have no idea," the demon replied, its voice like a guttural snarl. "Every step I take, I feel it. Every time the wind blows across my skin, I feel it. Every time I am touched, I feel it. My life is one of pain and it is something that I will never be rid of it." It stopped circling and pinned Xander with half crazed eyes. 

"And you know what?" It asked, a horrible smile surfacing through the tusks and piercings of its face. "I love every minute of it." 

"Well, then," Xander replied after several seconds, "why don't I put you out of your misery." He withdrew his silver sword from the scabbard on his back and relaxed his body before getting into his battle ready samurai stance. 

"But I like the misery," it replied and, faster than the brunette could have guessed, it attacked. 

*&*

**__**

May 18th, 2002

11:17 p.m. 

"I'm gonna need a massage after tonight, thanks to you," C.J. said to the pile of dust sprinkling to the ground. Re-sheathing the blade in the scabbard attached to his forearm, C.J. rotated his neck clockwise several times, grunting as the bones popped.

This last fight had been a close one. It wasn't as if being a hairsbreadth from death was new to him. It was one of the many hazards he took in fighting evil on a nightly basis. But after easily repelling a coordinated attack by three vampires, taking one down should have been easy but the twin punctures just above his collarbone and the bruised ribs were a testament to the perils of 'should have'. 

"Another ruined shirt, thank you very much," he said dryly after examining where he had landed on a tombstone. The stone had cut through the shirt and his skin and, in all honesty, C.J. had no clue as to why his ribs weren't broken. Of course, he was always taught to never frown upon the 'whys' of good fortune but take it as it is--good fortune. 

_And this was definitely good fortune, _he thought as he walked through the cemetery. A delicious wave of pain crept up his entire right side at every step. Not only were his ribs bruised but his knee had slammed into the marker as well. _Not to mention the little river of blood spilling into my eye. _Taking the sleeve of his shirt, C.J. dabbed again at the cut over his left eye, trying to staunch the blood flow without much success. He shook his head, disgusted that he had been so careless in the last fight. The last vampire had disarmed him on two separate occasions and it wasn't the first time that C.J. had questioned his resolve not to carry a stake. On the rare occasions that he had, the dusty conclusions were always a lot faster albeit not as satisfying as decapitation. 

__

It really must be a guy thing, he thought wryly and smiled in relief when the cut above his eye ceased bleeding. Although the cut would be more or less healed in the next day or two, along with his ribs, C.J. knew that they required dressing as soon as he got home. And that meant that he'd be better off all-around calling it a night. He hadn't reached his quota of six kills but there was always tomorrow. 

"Don't be an idiot, Ced," he muttered to himself, "you need to take at least one night off." Since coming to Sunnydale six months ago, C.J. had rarely taken a break from hunting, always too concerned about a repeat of Ohio; especially after meeting Dawn. Ever since the literal run-in with her at the beach several weeks ago, C.J. couldn't get the teenage brunette out of his mind. He had asked for her number that first day and she had told him, though she had given him strict instructions to call only between the hours of one and three unless otherwise noted. He had laughed at that but one look in those beautiful obsidian eyes of hers and he had acquiesced. In truth, she could have asked him to streak across the beach and he would have happily obliged. He really didn't understand what it was about her that drew him in so deep but he was powerless to fight it and wasn't about to try. Even if she was only fifteen, C.J. had no doubts that he wanted to be with her and protecting her, even if she did have Faith as her damn bodyguard, was number one on his list of priorities. The only way he knew how to do that was eliminating as many demons as possible every night. 

And that was how the all-nighters of the past couple of weeks had begun. 

Hunts that generally lasted three to five hours routinely extended beyond seven and sleep consisted of two-hour naps before going to work or sometime during the day. He stalked as many cemeteries and back alleys as he could in that given time, staying out of the way of the others that fought the good fight as well. Oh, he knew he wasn't alone in the fight. On several occasions in the past few months he had come across two blondes, one male and one female, who policed the graveyards. The first time he had seen them fight he knew that they had been gifted just as he had. C.J. had come close to introducing himself more than once but something had always kept him away. Eventually, he had given up, resigning fate to have them cross his path. If and when that occurred he would deal but until then, he would do his thing while they did theirs. 

Taking a shortcut through Shady Groves, C.J.'s thoughts were filled with Dawn and, as he neared the exit to the street, the distinct sounds of combat garnered his attention. 

"It's probably the blonde duo again," he said to himself but was inextricably drawn to the clamor in the distance. After a minute of skulking between headstones and behind shrubbery, he spotted the two combatants. Hiding behind a bush, C.J. watched the two fighters attack one another relentlessly. The large demon, a thing of the likes he had never seen, was obviously besting the smaller man. The gait of the man was that of a punch-drunk fighter. He could barely keep his feet and the large gash across his forehead and the limp arm hanging at his side was evidence enough for C.J. to know that the fight was drawing to an inevitable end. 

"Looks like I get to play hero again," he whispered and slowly withdrew his blade. Keeping low to the ground and behind tombstones when he could, C.J. crept up on the two fighters. He winced when the smaller man was thrown through a headstone and was amazed when he immediately got to his feet. For a moment it appeared that the collision had invigorated the man and C.J. watched in awe as the man put together a string of kick and punch combos that would have felled any other demon C.J. had seen in Sunnydale. But there was no doubt that this was no ordinary demon. After a particularly vicious spinning back kick that dropped it to one knee, the creature wiped its mouth and laughed--laughed! --Before slowly rising to its feet. Though the determination never left the other man's eyes, it was clear to C.J. that the man was out of ideas. 

"Guess I should've brought my shotgun, huh?" C.J. heard him say. 

"It would not have helped you, little man," the demon grunted and dug a hard right into the man's body. He gasped before falling to his knees, his good arm keeping him from falling face-first into the ground. The demon circled the man arrogantly as if waiting for the perfect opening to end it. C.J. knew he had to act but something held him back. 

"Not even your puny slayer would have been able to help you," the demon said and chuckled grotesquely. The comment had an immediate impact on the man and C.J. almost gasped when he saw the man's eyes burn crimson. 

"Don't you go near her. Don't you go near, Buffy," he growled. _Buffy? _C.J. thought. _Buffy? That's Dawn's sister. Wha--what the hell is going on? _

C.J. was torn from the questions bombarding his mind when he heard the downed man scream. The demon's foot ground into the other man's hand and C.J. cringed. _What the hell am I doing standing here? I need to get the hell over there. _He started to move but stopped when he heard the demon's gravelly voice speak again. 

"Don't worry," it said, "your little slayers are free from my wrath. Gabriel wants them all to himself. But you, on the other hand, are mine." It grabbed the man roughly by the back of his neck and pulled him towards its mouth. "Now it's time for you to feel my pain." C.J. stared at the scene as the demon knelt in front of this man--was he just a man? --And, for whatever reason, C.J. knew exactly what was going to happen. 

"He'll never survive," C.J. whispered just as the demon opened its maw incredibly wide. Without a second thought, C.J. sprung from behind a headstone and dashed over to the downed man. He knew he wasn't going to get there in time, so he yelled out the first thing that came to mind. 

" Algolagniar, no!" At the sound of its name, the demon whirled around, its chest heaving in anticipation of the kill. His blade balanced in one hand, C.J. stopped just out of reach of the creature. The adrenaline flowing through his veins escalated as his eyes roamed over the hideous flesh of the creature before him. 

As much as he was horrified by the demon's appearance, C.J. was dumbstruck by the void that greeted him when he glanced into its eyes. They weren't black as night or obsidian in shade. They were nothing. It was like looking into an empty void of space where only evil could survive. But that wasn't the only thing. C.J. could feel his body being pulled by some destructive energy towards the demon. He resisted, of course, but it was at the price of a growing discomfort that spread throughout his frame. 

__

What the fuck is going on? Feels like I'm on fire. He wanted to slash at the creature but the pain he felt coupled with its proximity to the downed man would only hinder C.J. and more than likely get them both killed. No, he needed to maneuver it away from the injured man. _But how? _

His question was answered when, quite abruptly, the demon dropped the man to the ground and stood. C.J. stared up at the hulking mass in apprehension. _Even on a good day I'd have trouble with this thing, _he thought, _but with me sporting bruises and probably cracked ribs…I'm fucked. _

He bounced on the balls of his feet as the creature approached, willing, if only for a few moments, the pain and fear away. His concentration was broken, however when, instead of attacking, the demon regarded him with a curious expression. It stroked its chin as if in thought, cocking its head from side to side as it took stock of the man in front of it. Out of nowhere, the demon staggered back and C.J. braced himself as its hands dropped to its sides, clenching and unclenching into fists and its breath coming in jagged gasps. 

"It…it cannot be," it growled in disbelief. "Y-you are dead. Gabriel…he told us. You're dead." 

"Well, obviously you guys don't know me very well," C.J. replied with a confidence he didn't feel. "Didn't you get the memo? I can't die." Knowing he wouldn't get another opportunity, C.J. launched himself at the demon, his heel slamming into its neck. 

The demon collapsed in a heap as it held its hand to its neck. C.J. followed up the attack with a hook to the temple. His right hand came around to slash at the demon but it blocked the strike with its hand. As soon as their flesh made contact, C.J. screamed and staggered away from the downed behemoth. For a brief moment his arm felt as if it had been dipped in acid and he wanted nothing more than to cut it from his body. As soon as it began, however, the rabid agony lowered to a throbbing pain. But it was still too much and he knew he had to get out of her before the demon got back to its…

"Too late," he said as the moonlight disappeared behind the monstrous beast. 

"You injured me," the demon said, its face expressionless. "And for that, you will pay." 

C.J. had no doubt that he was in way over his head but there was no quit in the young man. Garnering all the courage he had, C.J. winked at the creature before his smirk fell into place. He positioned himself between the demon and the dazed man still on the ground. Shrugging his shoulders, he beckoned the demon with one hand while holding his silver blade high in the air. _What did the Joker say? If you gotta go, go with a smile. _

Swallowing a deep breath, C.J. licked his lips. "Bring it," he said and, with a thunderous roar, charged. 

TBC…

****

A/N: I decided to split this chapter into two. Not only was I having trouble with the Great Symposium at Casa De Summers but I knew that this chapter was going to be too long if I didn't break it up. With that said, the next part of this chapter, _This Old House, _will be up no later than Wednesday. 


	13. This Old House

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 12

__

This Old House

****

May 18th, 2002

10:50 p.m. 

The moment she walked into the living room, Buffy knew there was going to be trouble. The three newcomers gaped at her daughter before they turned disbelieving eyes towards her. Cordelia's mouth opened and closed like a fish while Faith stood with her arms crossed, staring back and forth between Buffy and the Bitlet. But Angel's pained expression was what attracted the slayer's attention. 

His eyebrows were scrunched together in deep thought and his eyes sparkled with hints of betrayal. His chest heaved as he took in unnecessary breaths and he glanced from Buffy to Faith and back again before he uttered a single word.

"Buffy…" The slayer cringed at the anguish in his tone. It was a recreation of how he had said her name when she had thrust a sword into him to stop Acathla. Though the guilt that churned in her stomach was not near the intensity of that one moment, it was still present. And as selfish as it may have been, Buffy hated the fact that it was there at all. 

"How…?" Angel asked and for the first time Buffy looked at her daughter and noticed the distress in Faith's posture as she eyed Angel warily. Worried, Buffy started towards her daughter but was intercepted by Angel. 

"Buffy?" He asked again and this time there was an unmistakable hint of accusation in his tone. 

"I'd back off if I were you, mate," Spike growled and stood next to Buffy, ready to strike. The slayer could sense her lover's volatility and she pulled his hand into hers and squeezed gently. She was relieved when his body relaxed and he stared at her with an indescribable tenderness that made her wonder how someone could love her so completely despite all the things she had done. It was at times like this, when his love was the most potent that felt the least deserving of it. 

"Angel." Cordelia's voice tore Buffy's gaze from her lover and she refocused on her ex. She watched as the brunette stroked Angel's back soothingly and the effect it had on him. Much like Buffy's touch had done with Spike, Cordelia's presence had called the dark vampire and Buffy noticed the anger fade into the background of his glare. 

"So," The former May Queen said, her enthusiastic voice a polar opposite of the somber atmosphere, "are we gonna find out what the hell is going on here anytime soon?"

*&*

**__**

May 18th, 2002

11:12 p.m. 

"So," Cordelia said from her seat next to Angel on the couch that they shared with the two Wiccas. "Faith is Buffy and Spike's daughter from the future. She was sent in back to change things--" on several protesting looks, she held her hands up, "at least that's one of the theories. Now, sent back to "retrieve" her was Seth, a bad ass bloodsucker--no offense." she said to Angel and gave Spike a perfunctory glance. 

"None taken," Spike replied sarcastically and the former cheerleader rolled her eyes before she continued the summation. 

"Anyway, this Seth guy teams up with Mrs. Calendar…who is actually the First in human form. The First has Seth bring Dawn--who is a mythical Key…" 

"Was," the teen reminded and didn't try to hide the annoyance in her tone. 

"Sorry. 'Was' it is, then. So, the First does this ritual where she joins with Dawn and they become like this all-powerful One being whose powers Dawn can't tap into now but was the reason that Faith was sent back here in the first place. How am I doing so far?" 

"Splendid," Buffy said, mimicking the irritation her sister had displayed seconds before. 

"Cordelia," Giles said before the woman could get back to her recitation. "As much as I'd love to hear every single detail that's been given about this whole situation, I must remind you that there are far greater things to worry about than making sure you've gotten every aspect of the story correct." 

"Amen to that," the dark-haired slayer muttered and received a scathing glare from the seer. She laughed at Cordelia's displeasure before she spoke. "Relax, 'Queen C', I was just screwing with ya." 

"No you weren't," Cordelia responded. 

Faith shrugged and pushed off from the wall she was leaning against. Buffy had noticed that the once rogue slayer had made sure to keep her distance from the others and Buffy had no problems with that. 

"G-man's right," Faith said and snapped Buffy out of her wandering thoughts. "We've all heard the spiel not five minutes ago and, considering the serious bit of terror and death popping up when I close my eyes at night like a good little girl, recapping what we've just been told is the last thing we need to be wasting our time with." 

Buffy stifled a giggle when Cordelia cut her eyes at the brunette slayer and the blonde reluctantly pulled her hand away from Spike's, the first time she had released it since he had nearly jumped over her to get at Angel. 

Speaking of Angel, she thought as her eyes fell on her first love. When she had come clean about Faith, any trace of emotion had been wiped from his face and Buffy winced slightly at the coolness that now glossed his eyes. Unfortunately, Spike had detected her reaction and when he squeezed her hands in question, his eyes, unlike Angel's, told her how hurt the platinum blonde was. Thankfully, he had kept it hidden from the others though his gaze never wavered from the floor until now. 

I'll make it up to you, she whispered with her eyes before turning away from him and re-adorning her slayer cowl. 

"Giles and Faith are right, Cordy. You heard me right the first time about who Faith is and where she came from. If you need a rehash of it, we can give it to you later but now we need to focus on whatever it is that's coming." Buffy turned towards the brunette slayer and tried not to show the hostility she still held for the other woman. 

"Faith, you said you've had slayer dreams, too?" 

"That would be a yes," she replied with her former bravado except that Buffy saw right through it. The other woman was shaken by the simple thought of what her dreams had held and if they were as bad as Buffy's, well the blonde didn't blame her one bit. 

"Giles, do you want to take Faith in the kitchen, have her tell you what she remembers?" 

"Yes, I think that would be appropriate," the Watcher affirmed and sat up before walking over to the young woman. He touched her on the shoulder and she flinched. Buffy couldn't tell whether it was from fear or surprise at the comforting touch but decided to put it out of her mind as the Watcher led the young woman out of the room. 

"Wills, Tara, Dawn. I really don't think we really need to discuss anything else. You might as well…" Buffy stopped as a bought of dizziness overcame her but before she righted herself two strong hands gripped her hips. 

"There now, luv," Spike said and at his soothing voice Buffy instinctively leaned against him. 

"Mum," Faith asked and got up from where she was sitting on the arm of the recliner. "Are you okay?" 

Buffy smiled tightly, thankful for Spike's support and her daughter's concern. "Fine, Bitlet," she said and was greeted with a tentative smile from the young woman. "Just a little dizzy is all." 

"Maybe you should get some rest," Tara offered and Willow squeezed the Wicca's hand in affirmation. 

"Tara's right. You just got out of the hospital today and you've been going every since you got home." 

"Hospital?" Angel asked after a questioning glance at Cordelia. 

"Yeah, Buffy," Dawn said. It was her first time speaking since Angel and the others had arrived. "It's not like you just had a bump on the head or something. You were in a coma for almost two months. 

"Excuse me," Angel said loudly, breaking up the huddle. "But what the hell is going on here?" 

Buffy frowned at Angel's outburst before pulling away from Spike and looking him in the eye. She didn't even ask the question before he answered with a sheepish yet defiant smile plastered across his face. 

"Sorry, pet," he said and shrugged, "but there was a failure on our part to communicate your--situation to the Poof." 

Ignoring the irresistible urge to slap that infuriating smirk off Spike's face, Buffy shook her head before glancing at Angel. Oh, if she thought he was furious earlier, there were no words to describe the look in his eyes now. Of course this time his anger was focused on a particularly smug William the Bloody instead of her and Buffy couldn't help but breath a sigh of relief to that. 

Still, she thought, I've got to do some damage control. 

"Fine," she said and pinned Angel with a warning glance, "I'll fill Angel in on what happened and—" she heard Spike about to protest but held up her hand and he wisely closed his mouth albeit reluctantly. "And the rest of you can go to sleep. Cordy, you can rest on the couch for the time being. I'm assuming you guys made reservations for lodgings. I would offer you to stay here but it's already 'Full House'." 

"It's fine, Buffy," Cordelia smiled and glanced at the seething elder vampire, "we made arrangements. Don't worry about us." 

Buffy nodded and turned to Angel. "You wanna go outside?" His brown eyes finally dropped from Spike and down to her. They softened slightly and he answered her with a nod before stalking out the room, leaving the others in a blanketed silence. 

"Okay," Dawn said, "can we say groucho. I knew there was a reason I never liked him." 

"Dawn," Buffy warned. 

"Niblet's right," Spike said and Buffy turned to her lover. His eyes widened at the anger dancing in her hazel eyes and he opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it. 

"I can't believe you didn't tell him I was in a coma." Buffy saw the hurt and insecurity flash across his cerulean eyes but his trademark cockiness and insolence quickly covered it. 

"Sorry, _luv,_" he said, "but my mind was a bit preoccupied by you and Glinda layin' up in bed unconscious. And I was makin' sure that Rupes and Bitlet were healin' nice and proper-like. So forgive me if I didn't make it a priority to make sure the pedantic Poof was kept in the loop." Buffy flinched at the harshness of his words and, although she knew that he was right, anger got the better of her at his less than friendly tone. 

"God, you just don't get it, do you?" 

"Guess I don't, luv," he whispered flippantly, making her even angrier. 

"Angel is important to me, do you get that? We may not be friends, as someone once said, but that doesn't mean he's out of my life."

"And whose fault is that?" Spike replied heatedly. "Whose fault is it that you compare everybody else to that soddin' Neanderthal. 'Oh Angel wouldn't do this, he would do that'," he mocked and plastered a dreamy look to his face that infuriated Buffy even more. 

"What is wrong with you?" 

"Mum?" Faith said, attempting to break up the impending meltdown. 

"Wrong with me?" Spike asked, offended. "What's wrong with me is that I'm always the one giving the bloody concessions. What's wrong with me is that I never do things for myself but for _you._"

"So that's my fault?" 

"Buffy…" Willow murmured but was interrupted by Spike's snarky reply. 

"Of course not, Slayer. Nothing is ever your fault. You never do anything wrong and neither does your precious Angel. It's amazing you two lovebirds still aren't together." 

"Well maybe if we were I wouldn't have to deal with your shit," she replied and instantly regretted it. The anger and indifference instantly melted from Spike's face and his shoulders drooped noticeably. His eyes glistened with unshed tears and it was identical to the look he had given her after she broke it off. 

God, am I that vindictive? She asked herself and took a step towards Spike, her hand out to cup his face but he stepped back and turned away. She couldn't hide the hurt on her face but his eyes never took her in. Shaking his head, Spike through on an obvious façade of cockiness and addressed the slayer. 

"Well, now that you mention it, Slayer, this place is quite cramped. Reckon I'll vacate the premises for a spell." He sauntered out the room and Buffy followed. 

"Spike, wait," she said as he wiggled into his duster. 

"Sorry, Slayer," he said coolly, "things to do, demons to kill." He swung open the door and bumped into Angel who was standing on the porch. 

"What the…" Angel began and turned to Buffy. 

"Just leave it, Angel" she muttered and watched Spike's lithe form flee into the night. "Just leave it." 

*&*

**__**

May 18th, 2002

11:31 p.m. 

The scuff of his boots against the concrete was a welcome distraction for the morose vampire. The consistent scraping was the only thing that cut into the chaotic thoughts that swirled together in his brain. He was used to the ambivalent emotions that assaulted him in his Slayer's presence but to have her push his sense into overload in such a short amount of time was an accomplishment even for her. 

"Bloody Kewpie doll for the Slayer," the vampire spat as he slipped another fag into his mouth. Stopping briefly to light it, he resumed his journey through town, thankful for the bitter yet calming flavor of nicotine as it slunk down his throat. 

__

What has she done to me? He thought. _What have I become for her? Am I even myself anymore? _There was no need to respond the question because he already knew what the answer would be. Spike knew with a resentful finality that the demon of lore that had plowed into Sunnydale nearly five years ago was gone. Even the lost vampire of two years back had been altered, twisted by the slayer's will to be nothing more than a lovesick puppy to be kicked and rewarded as she saw fit. She cared for him in that same way but she would never look at him as she did Angel. She would never worry about disappointing Spike, oh no; he was too far beneath her _to _disappoint. 

Spike angrily hurled the cigarette to the ground, stomping it into oblivion hoping that the minute violence could satiate the tightness in his undead chest. Removing his foot from the obliterated fag, the vampire let out a primordial scream that echoed up and down the empty street. His throat burned as he gave voice to his frustration, the stress on his vocal cords a welcome disruption from the screaming questions that his brain continued to shove at him. 

What does she see in me? 

Does she love me? 

Will she always love me?

Will she find someone else—someone normal after she tires of me?

What happens if Angel's soul is ever restored permanently? 

Why am I behavin' like a soddin' wanker? 

At that last question, Spike's roar of frustration fizzled into a guttural chuckle that, after several minutes had progressed into full-blown laughter. There was no humor in it, however; only the promise of safety from the tears that beckoned to be released. Why could she turn him inside out so easily? Yes, he could admit that he had always been the emotional type—something Angelus despised—but the way Buffy made him want to cry sometimes was beyond his nature. 

"Don't 'ave too much o' my nature left," he whispered to the surrounding silence. He had never been one to follow the expectations of society--whether the upper-crust Londoners of the past nor the vampiric traditions of his second life—but to have stumbled so far off the trail for the love of a woman, _the _woman, was completely...

"Me," he admitted with a sigh. As much as he fought against it at times of insecurity, times such as tonight, Spike understood and, for the most part, accepted his proclivity to be ruled by the heart. It had been his undoing as a human yet his salvation as a vampire. Of course there were times that he wished nothing more than to have the feelings desert him, to have the ability to burn the poet's heart that still resided within him into ash. 

"You poofter," he scolded. Fact of the matter was, Spike knew that his entire being revolved around love and if he didn't have that he'd be nothing more than another empty shell of filth--like Angelus and that was a comparison he did _not _take a liking to. 

No, Spike didn't want to change that part of him just because Buffy had hurt him. As much as he was complaining, he didn't doubt her when she said she loved him. Her embrace of her feelings for him had been obvious the last time they had made love--not shagged, not screwed, not fucked--made love. The glaze of her eyes as she stared into his; the gentle kisses and caresses she ingratiated him with were still fresh in his mind. She didn't hesitate to show him casual affection, either with a brief squeeze of his hand or making out in the hospital garage. And the love in her eyes when she looked at him. No, she loved him all right and he'd be a fool if he didn't see it. But she hadn't given him the one thing he never thought would make a difference but tonight had showed him how important it was. 

She still didn't trust him. 

Oh, she trusted him in battle as well as with the lives of her and her friends. But what she didn't trust was his judgment on the mundane things. He understood how not calling Angel may have looked but the truth of the matter was that Spike had been too preoccupied with other things to bother with filling the poof in. But, no, Buffy hadn't seen it that way. To her it was just another macho thing for Spike, proving that he had the ins with the slayer instead of Angel. And as much as Spike wanted to flaunt his new relationship in front of his Sire, he wouldn't do it. Well, not overtly, at least since the last time with Riley hadn't quite worked out for Spike's benefit. 

Spike ran a shaky hand through his tousled locks and sighed in frustration. He had thought that Buffy loving him was the greatest thing he could ever have and, in most ways, that was true. He never thought having her trust would cause such a rift inside of him but it was there. The gaping hole that had opened after she rejected him had been filled when she had reiterated her love for him that first night in the hospital. But knowing that he didn't have her complete trust had made an incision in that part of him he thought was fulfilled with her love. And it was only a matter of time until that incision widened to a larger fissure that would again pull him to the brink of oblivion. 

__

'Cause if I can't have all of you, I'd rather--

Would he ever have all of her? Would she trust him implicitly like she had Angel or would Spike have to accept living in the former's shadow? As much as he loved Buffy, Spike wasn't sure if he could…

His thoughts were cut off by a bone-rattling scream and Spike fell into a defensive stance. He scanned his surroundings, noticing that he was at the entrance of Heberly cemetery but instincts told him that the scream had not originated so close to him. And if his ears were correct, the sound was coming a mile or so down the road from Shady Groves. 

The scream echoed again and Spike flinched from the pain inflected in the cry. If there was something he understood with crystal clarity was how the different levels of pain changed the scream. And judging from the pitch of the last cry, this person was in a hell of a lot of pain. 

"A bloke's work is never done," the vampire muttered and, grabbing a stake from the pocket of his duster, took off towards Shady Groves. 

****

A/N: For those who think I am evil, trust me on this. Remember Buffy's dream and what Spike said to her. It will be a major theme of _Severed Ties. _Also, for those who were confused about the last chapter, C.J. is **not **immortal. His crack about not being able to die was only a jab at the demon stuttering about how he should be dead. _With that said, _however, there are a bunch of things that our friend C.J. is hiding, whether it is purposely or subconsciously. Everything will be explained in due time…

__

Next Chapter: **Friends in Need. **Buffy and Angel talk on the porch. Bitlet consoles a distraught Faith and Spike comes to the rescue of two guys who really need it. The question is, will he need saving, too? 


	14. Friends in Need

Severed Ties

**Chapter 13**

_Friends in Need_

**_May 18th, 2002_**

**_11:31 p.m. _**

            It was always quiet this time of night. The incessant chirp of insects and the periodic whine of a car in the distance were often the only sounds that were guaranteed to carry through the night. Every so often spring winds sailed through the streets as well, dancing with the leaves and bushes, skating along the grass. Although she rarely got to enjoy such peaceful nights, Buffy often found herself wishing for them nonetheless. It was a reminder that all things in this world were not bad, were not violent, ugly, and cruel. Sometimes, after a long night of slaying, she forgot that. Last year, between her mother's illness and Glory's quest for the Key, Buffy had forgotten what there was in the world to enjoy. As much as she loved Dawn, Buffy couldn't take comfort in that love, nor the love of her friends. The only times she had felt a semblance of peace were the stolen moments with Spike. As much as she denied it then she could admit it now. Even before he allowed Glory to torture him, Buffy had stopped seeing him as a killer and more of an ally. In fact, she remembered how he was there for her the night Dawn had found out that she was the Key and had fled into the night.

            _Her eyes frantically search the darkness for any sign that her little sister had been here. Tension fills her body with every step, with every second and she releases it the only way she knew how. _

_            "Dawn!" She shouts into the night. "Dawn!" _

_            "Yeah, that should do it," her blonde companion mutters. _

_            "Shut up," she hisses, unable to formulate a half-decent retort. _

_            She feels his eyes on her but continues to scan the darkness. "The nibblet scampered off to get away from you. She hears you bellowing, she's gonna pack it in the opposite direction." They stop and peer into the distance to no avail. "Can't say I blame her." _

_            The truth of his words from earlier at the crypt slams into her brain and she bite_s _back the sob clamoring to be heard. She stares at the ground as the tears slowly overwhelm her resolve. "You were right," she whispers. "This is my fault. I should have told her." _

_            He sighs and she risks a glance towards him. Instead of a mocking smirk, she sees genuine concern. It throws her for a loop but not as much as his words do. "Look, she probably would have skipped off anyway, even if she never found out. She's not just a blob of energy; she's also a fourteen-year-old hormone bomb. Which one's screwin' her up more right now, spin the bloody wheel." He shrugs in disinterest but she knows he cares. "You'll find her, just in the nick of time. That's what you hero types do." _

_            She stares at him, hesitant to believe his words but desperate for them to be true. He sees that and gazes at her with a confidence she has never seen before. _

_            "You'll find her." Those three words obliterate the tears that were so close to falling. The gratitude that fills her heart at his kind words is staggering and she wants nothing more than for him to hold her. To whisper those same words in her ear as his hand strokes her back. She is tempted to go to him, to initiate the embrace but as soon as she does, another thought enters her mind, killing most of the confidence he had instilled with a few choice words. _

_            "And then what?" She asks and cannot keep the hope from growing in her chest. The hope that he will know exactly what to say, like he always does. _

"Buffy?" The sound of her name snapped the slayer from her thoughts and she glanced at the figure sitting next to her on the steps. Angel. She'd forgotten that he was here with her, awaiting her explanation of things. She sighed, glancing out into the night sky. God, she wished Spike was here, at her side, comforting her with his presence alone. Only he could tell her what she needed to hear without patronizing her. He could go from wanting to blow her brains out--literally--to patting her on the back, sitting in silence as she poured her fears out to him. 

            _And you just pissed it away, didn't you? _She thought and sighed heavily. 

            "Buffy?" Angel called again and turned his body towards her. "Are you all right?" 

            Buffy chuckled humorlessly at the question and ran her hands through her hair. "All right?" There were so many ways to answer that question. There was the truth, the not-so truth and the blatant lie. She was familiar with the latter two but the former--well she wasn't quite the expert on relaying her feelings to others unless it was in anger or frustration. 

            _Well, whatta ya know? There's a bit of those two healthy emotions sprinkled in with my totally cocked up mind right about now, _she thought blandly. Of course, she didn't think she could actually be _that _honest. 

            "I haven't been all right for a long time, Angel. My job title ensures me that I'm never all right. I don't even know if I have it in me to know when things are all right." She covered her face with her hands. Hands that had loved and spilt blood. Hands that had hit loved ones in anger yet also hands that had cared and caressed for those same loved ones. These hands had done so much, felt so much pain and too little joy, when would it end? When would things get to the point where she could answer with a welcome finality that she was truly all right? 

            "Buffy," Angel said after several minutes had passed, "What's going on? With you and Spike." She turned to her former lover and saw that, despite the neutral tone of his words, there was a decidedly angry tint to his brown eyes. A part of Buffy froze at that look, terrified at the thought of Angel being so mad, so disappointed in her. The larger part of her, however, was angered that something inside of her would always seek his approval. 

            _I can't live my life like this _she thought morosely and studied the chipped paint of her fingernails. _I have to move away from this for myself and for…Spike. _

Buffy turned sideways on the steps and pulled her legs to her chest with her arms. She rested her chin atop her knees and stared at Angel. 

            "When Willow brought me back, everything was so hard. It was like I was in a daze, or in some sort of state of drunkenness I was so numb. It was like I was here but I wasn't, you know? Like I was watching myself go through the motions." Angel nodded and his eyes softened in remembrance. She assumed that he was thinking about their brief encounter after her resurrection. After the initial hug, the time had been spent breaking uncomfortable silences with awkward pauses and a hesitant brush of fingers together here and there. For Buffy it had been the final bit of proof that a part of her was missing. If she couldn't muster more than token affection for the once love of her life, then how could she function with anyone else? Afterwards, she had spent many nights pondering just that and it wasn't until that fateful night at the Bronze that she found out the answer to her question. 

            Spike. 

            "What about him?" The vampire asked and Buffy realized she had said the name aloud. She glared at Angel, angered by the contempt with which he had addressed Spike but she forced it down. There wasn't time for defensive Buffy. The only thing that managed to do was muck up her relationships--_Like it did not twenty minutes ago, huh, Slayer? --_And that was something she did not want to do. 

            She felt a frown forming on her face retreat as it reformed into a wistful smile. Yes, she knew exactly what she wanted all right but the vampire sitting in front of her didn't. It may not have been his business but the slayer still felt that he should know how important Spike was to her. And why. 

            "Well," she said and started rocking back and forth, "for starters, he saved me." 

*&*

**_May 18th, 2002_**

**_11:39 p.m. _**

            The agonizing screams sounded twice more before Spike bounded over the gates of Shady Groves. He stumbled before righting himself and streaking through the empty graveyard. It didn't take him long to find the source of the cries but he skidded to a halt when he saw the thing that held the man down. 

            The demon was like nothing he had ever seen before. It looked like one big muscle. One big, overgrown, pierced and overly pulsating muscle. Spike shook his head in disbelief as he focused on the victim sprawled on the ground. The demon held a single finger to the man's back and he struggled to loosen the demon's hold to no avail.

            Spike was torn from his daze as another scream branded the air, jolting the vampire into action. He covered the distance in seconds, planted his foot on a tombstone, and vaulted into the air, morphing into game face halfway through the leap. 

            The gap between them closed instantly and Spike rammed the stake into the demon's shoulder while wrapping his free hand around its neck, ripping the beast off the spasming body. The vampire winced when metal spikes cut into his arm but he ignored it and twisted the demon's arm behind its back. Using all his supernatural strength, Spike rotated his hips, mindful of the body underneath him and the demon, and spun. 

            _This bloody thing weighs a ton, _Spike thought as he pulled the demon off its feet and hurled it through the air. He heard the satisfying crunch as it slammed through a large headstone and rolled several feet before coming to a stop. It lay still, arms sprawled out and flat on its face. Spike watched it for several minutes and when he was confident that it was out, turned his attention to the still victim. 

            Spike gingerly turned the man over and checked over the injured man's various wounds. A severe gash marred the dark flesh of his baldhead and his face was alit with several minor abrasions. Spike lifted the tattered black shirt and winced at the angry blotches that littered his ribcage. There was no doubt that several ribs were broken though, thankfully, no other bones seemed to be. 

            "You'll live," Spike whispered and whirled around when he heard a pained whimper from behind a tombstone. The vampire glanced at the demon and, satisfied that it was still out, stood and ventured towards the moan. He found the second man laying on his side. Spike noticed the labored movement and realized that the man was crawling towards a wicked blade several feet away. 

            "You all right, mate," Spike asked. The man momentarily stiffened before his body relaxed and he lowered his head to the ground. The vampire frowned before kneeling down towards the man. He held his hands away from his body in the case the man attacked. Spike tapped him on the shoulder and repeated his question. 

            "Well," the man replied after a labored sigh, "I was all right until…" he turned over and Spike's eyes widened in surprise, "you showed up." 

            "Harris?" Spike asked in disbelief. 

            The brunette chuckled and was quickly reminded of his injuries. Spike put a hand on Xander's shoulder to steady the latter's body as he coughed painfully. After several coughs, Xander inhaled deeply. 

            "In the bruised, bloodied, and battered flesh, Captain Peroxide." Although surprise still coated his mind, Spike smirked at Xander's familiar banter. If he could joke, then he was well enough. _Of course_, the vampire thought, _what the bloody 'ell is well enough for the whelp? _      

            Shaking his head, the blonde pinned the brunette with a serious stare. "So," he said, "mind tellin' me what the soddin' 'ell is goin' on here?" 

            "Not much. Just did a bit of walking around and…" A sharp pain interrupted Xander and his body was again wracked with spasms. Spike watched the man's eyes for some sign as to how bad the other's injuries were when, for the second time in as many minutes, shock slammed into his gut. 

            "Xander," he said carefully after a full minute of thought, "I may not 'ave been the most attentive bloke when it came to you but I don't remember your eyes doin' that red glowy thing. Mind sharin' where you picked that up from?" 

            Xander eyed him mirthfully but when his eyes focused just over Spike's shoulder, the humor died instantly. "I, er, think there are more pressing matters at hand than how beautiful you think my eyes are." 

            Spike frowned at the man's reply until he saw that Xander was looking past him. "Bloody 'ell," he swore and jumped to his feet just in time to catch and boot to the ribs. The force of the blow pushed the vampire backwards and he tripped over a broken headstone. Ignoring the pain from the demon's kick, the vampire kipped up into a fighting stance in time to see the demon's large fist hurdling towards his face. 

            _Bloody 'ell, _the vampire thought. _This is gonna…_

*&*

****

**_May 18th, 2002_**

**_11:40 p.m. _**

            Hurt. 

            She had always known her life had been filled with pain; her father abandoning her, her mother never there for her. She had taken to the streets early, leaving home for days at a time. It wasn't the brightest thing for a thirteen year-old to do and she found that out the hard way. The beatings she had received were something she'd grown accustomed to with her mother's boyfriends. But the other things, the other…violations were much worse than a fist to the face. Physical injuries were easily healed but the other ones, the psychological ones, had yet to close. 

            And as she recounted her dreams to Giles, a part of her broke reliving the things that had happened to her, things that felt so real that they had to be true. After she had finished her story, she noticed the pained look on his face before his fingers brushed away the tears she hadn't even known were there. The sympathetic touch had been too much and she had excused herself with some incoherent apology. 

            That was how she got here now; sitting on the back steps, unlit cigarette in one hand, hand full of hair in the other. The endless chatter of crickets was the only thing to interfere with the ambiance of the Sunnydale night. Despite the ache inside of her, Faith was happy here. Spending two years in a five-by-nine cell made one appreciate things more. So maybe she wasn't the most liked person here, maybe B hated her guts and Giles only pitied her, it was still better than her life of the past twenty years. She may not have been wanted but she was finally needed. Needed to fight the good fight, to stop whatever it was that was coming and, if necessary, give her life for the safety of those that would never know of her sacrifices. 

            _Doesn't that sound all heroic? _She smiled wryly at the thought and flicked the imaginary ash from the tip of the cigarette. She leaned back against the steps, elbows propping her up, and stared up into the night sky. It was a beautiful view, something she'd never gotten a chance to appreciate in prison. Hell, there were a lot of things she didn't get to appreciate locked up but, in ways, it was much better than her life. 

            Well, expect for the brief months she had spent in Sunnydale. 

            And that's what hurt Faith the most. She knew she could have made a life here had she only accepted Buffy's friendship instead of letting the pain from her past and jealousy drive her into the darkness. She could have been here, helped against all the demons that had made themselves known over the past few years, made a difference when it counted. But she had made her choices and now the only thing she could do was make amends for them. Of course, there were people that she could never make things right with. 

            A single tear escaped its prison as she thought about Joyce. The woman had, for a brief time, been like a second mother to her. She had taken Faith in when even Buffy had been uneasy around the brunette slayer. In fact, Faith thought that Joyce's kindness that made Buffy see the soft side of Faith hidden behind the bad ass exterior. No, she'd never get to as for the woman's forgiveness and Faith knew she would have to live with that for the rest of her life. 

            "Dollar for your thoughts." 

            The curious voice broke the slayer's descent into melancholy and she whirled around, catching the slight glow of emerald-cerulean eyes in the light of the moon. Her body relaxed at the sight of the other Faith, B's daughter. _B has a daughter, _the slayer thought and shook her head incredulously. The other slayer must have taken that as a sign and she quietly sat next to the brunette. 

            Faith welcomed the young woman's silent company as it prevented her from falling too far into the trap of guilt and self-loathing. She had thought often about the fact that aside from Angel, only Joyce had seen through her tough girl routine. She had thanked the vampire that had become her friend but would never get the chance to do the same with Joyce. 

            Another tear cascaded down her cheek at the thought of the strong woman that had raised a slayer. Tonight had been the first time she'd shed tears since that night behind the alley when Angel held her, ignoring her pleas for death. Even when the soulled vampire told her about Joyce the night Faith had arrived at the Hyperion, she had put it out of her mind. But now, surrounded by constant reminders of the woman, the memories got the better of her. 

            "You know," Faith Summers said, never taking her eye off the sky, "I've seen a lot of things in my life. A lot of bad, but even more good. I've been surrounded by love for most of my life but evil and hate have touched me as well. Saturated my mind, violated my body in ways--in ways that still haunt me." She craned her neck to look at the brunette. "It's not something I can be rid of or--or sweep up under the rug and forget about. It doesn't work that way. I know I will always have to deal with it up until the day I die. That's something I can't help. But what I can help is how I let it control me, or not control me, as the case may be. Sure there are moments when I'm back in his arms, watching helplessly as he cuts me or…" She sighed and gazed back up at the clear night. 

            "But I don't allow that to dictate how I live my life anymore. I can't afford that. Too many people are depending on me." 

            "That's where you've got me," the brunette whispered. "I doubt if anyone's really counting on me to do anything but screw up. Wouldn't be the first time." 

            "Who doesn't screw up, Faith?" 

            "Well, B for starters." As much as she wanted to sound sincere, she couldn't hide the bitterness that crept into her tone. 

            "Uh, yeah," the blonde replied, "that's why my Dad's no where to be found." When Faith glanced at her, the vampire's daughter chuckled humorlessly. "They had an argument about Angel. Mum sorta compared him to Spike and the "shit" she had to deal with by being with my Dad." 

            "Oh, come on, honey. That's just B stickin' her foot in her mouth. 'S not like she meant it." 

            "The point is that she said it, thus she screwed up royally." Faith met the dark brown eyes of the other slayer. "And she knew it right away."

            "Well, there you have it. B screwed up, knows she did it and will do everything she can do to set things right." 

            "You can do the same." The sincerity in the young woman's tone startled Faith and she gaped at the daughter of the only woman who had tried to be her friend. The hope that filled her chest quickly died down however; doused by a cauldron of reality. 

            "No I can't," she said, shaking her head. "Spike loves B and, from what I saw, B loves him, too. I don't have that kind of support, sweetie pie. Never did," she added inaudibly. 

            "Yes you do," Faith said and took the brunette's hand, squeezing it firmly before she let it go. "You have Angel." 

            "Yeah, but…" 

            "And you have me." 

            The former rogue slayer stared at the young woman in disbelief. How could someone, whom she had never met, have so much respect for her? Give her so much support. Just as she was about to voice her questions, the other woman spoke. 

            "You know, I never met the people that I was named for."

            "Huh?" 

            "They--they died before I was born. Joyce is my middle name, ya know, after my Grand Mum." 

            "You don't say?" Faith asked and smiled warmly. "Well, guess we can eliminate the confusion that's bound to happen with the two of us here, huh?" On Faith's look, the brunette laughed. "One too many Faiths runnin' around." 

            Faith Joyce smiled but pinned the other slayer with serious eyes. "You can never have too much faith," the young woman said and the double meaning sliced the brunette to the core. It took her a moment to regain her composure before she was able to reply. 

            "Still," she said, her voice shaky, "may be a mite confusing during battle if they tell you to zig and I hear it and need to zag…sure as hell wouldn't look to good, know what I mean?" 

            "So, what do you have in mind?" 

            "Well, Baby J sounds kinda nice." The blonde rolled her eyes affectionately and Faith laughed at the former's resemblance to Buffy. 

            "So," Faith said after a few moments of silence. "Who was the skank that stole my name? No doubt she wasn't near as sexy as me or…" On Baby J's curious look Faith rolled her eyes. "Come on, girlie. You know someone important had to come along for Buffy and Spike to name you after her. And it sure as hell wasn't me." 

            "You're right," the woman replied. "It was someone important. Actually, she was Mum's best friend for ten years. In some ways they got closer than even her and Willow had." 

            "Wow," Faith said, not bothering to hide her envy, "Girl was lucky. B's a damn good friend to have." 

            "Yeah," Baby J said, "you told her that a lot." Faith whirled again towards the girl and mouthed a response that refused to pass through her mouth. _She couldn't mean…what she said, could she? _

"Yes," Baby J assured, "it was you." 

            "But how? Why?" Faith was thunderstruck. Never would she have guessed that her and B would be anything more than enemies. Even if Faith hoped they could repair the bridges that had been torn down, she was a realist. Doing the things she did to B were things someone didn't just idly forget let alone forgive. It was impossible to even think that Buffy would name a daughter out of her most hated enemy. 

            "Faith, you've changed. I know that, you know that, hell even Mum knows that. In my time, you and Mum reconnected after you were released. You fought together for almost a decade. As much as she loved Daddy, Willow, Xander and the others, you were the only one that she could relate to about the calling. You two became sisters and not just in slaying. She depended on you, trusted you." 

            "Trusted me?" 

            "Yes, trusted you. But more than that--she loved you." The other woman's confession broke all reserves that Faith had and tears poured from her eyes. She didn't bother trying to speak since her throat constricted with emotion. Instead, she listened to Baby J speak. 

            "And you loved her, Faith. You loved her enough to sacrifice yourself for this world although you knew you would be trapped in a hell dimension forever. You didn't hesitate in giving yourself up to M'shi-Dar to save the world."

            "I…I saved the world?" Faith asked herself, still unable to comprehend the fact that Buffy had come to love her like a sister. 

            "Yeah, you did. And before you were taken you know what you told her? You said _'Never be afraid to live your life, B. Embrace the time you get to be with those you love and don't hesitate to remind them how much you love them every chance you get.' _Right before you disappeared you told Mum that you loved her and that you would always be there with her in spirit. When she realized she was pregnant a year or two later, she didn't hesitate to tell Daddy what she wanted to name me. And he agreed. So she did that. Named me after two of the most important people in her life." 

            Faith buried her face in her hands and gave up fighting the sobs that now shook her body. She felt Baby J's arms surround her as the young woman pulled her close. It took her a few minutes before her body relaxed in the other woman's embrace and, when she did, Faith heard the comforting words that would have made her cry even more were it not for the emotional drain. 

            "Mum named you my godmother, you know? She loved you that much. And I love you that much. Never forget that. Never forget that seeing you alive in there, meeting you for the first time—it's one of the greatest gifts I could have ever gotten."

            As the sobs lessened, Faith smiled into the chest of this young woman that looked and felt so much like Buffy. Buffy. Faith had loved the slayer and envied her at the same time. She had done so many terrible things to Buffy and to find out that she was forgiven _and _loved by that very same woman was astounding. In truth, she wasn't sure if she would ever truly believe that she deserved it but the fact that Baby J told her was more than she could ask for. She wouldn't realize until later that those were the words she needed to hear to push away her self-hatred. To be trusted, to be loved was something Faith had always wanted but had never received. 

            And tonight, here on the porch with her apparent goddaughter, Faith knew that nothing would ever make her feel as wonderful as she did now.

*&*

**_May 19th, 2002_**

**_12:33 a.m. _**

            Buffy leaned her head against the rail and closed her eyes. Sometime during the conversation, she had switched to sitting indian-style and now her hands rested comfortably in her lap. The weight that had been threatening to crush her for the past hour had been mercifully eased. She had told Angel everything--well, almost everything. She had explained to the soulled vampire what Spike had come to mean to her in the past few months after she had been ripped from heaven, how he had been her anchor to a world she was drifting away from. Although she skirted over the more intimate moments (something which see saw still pained Angel to know) she was not so brief over several of their more physical encounters. 

            She still remembered the shock on his face when she had told him how she had beaten Spike to a pulp. It had been a surprise to Angel that his Childe had not fought back. Even during the days of Angelus, Spike had never been one to take a beating without at least trying to give some of it back. But he had. He had sacrificed his body to alleviate Buffy of her pain and frustration. The reluctant admiration that gleamed in Angel's eyes was not lost on the slayer but she said nothing of it. 

            She told him how she had ended it when Riley had come--only to have Angel snort at the mention of her ex and she was pleased that the simple gesture had been able to draw a smile from her. 

            Skimming over Faith's arrival, she had told him about those painful seconds when she had thought Spike was dusted. Tears trickled down her cheeks at the memory of how close she had come to losing Spike. After seeing that he wasn't dust, Buffy had known that the decision to be with Spike had already been made but only then had she realized it. She told him of the conversation with Giles and the fight with Seth that had nearly cost Buffy her life. And she told him that she remembered hearing Spike's voice every night by her side while she lay in a coma. 

            That had been ten minutes ago and Angel had yet to reply. Any trace of emotion was hidden from view as he adorned his stoic visage. She knew he had been hurt by what she had told him but Buffy finally understood that she couldn't refrain from hurting everyone, even the ones she loved, like Spike. 

            Spike. Her gut twisted at the last time she'd seen him. It had been well over an hour ago and he had yet to return. She wasn't afraid, Spike could take care of himself but--but what if he was distracted? What if her words had caused him to get sloppy? What if he died tonight? It would because of her and if that happened…killing Angel had ripped Buffy apart but she had gradually healed. If something happened to Spike tonight because of her, Buffy had no doubts that it would destroy her. 

            "You love him." The cool words startled the slayer out of her punishing thoughts and she stared at the vampire beside her. His demeanor had not changed in the slightest and for a moment she thought she had imagined the words. Just as she was about to ask Angel if he had spoken, the vampire pinned her with his eyes. 

            "You love him," he repeated and Buffy noticed the coolness had melted from his eyes. Left in its place was a mixture of pain, disbelief, sadness and acceptance. 

            "Yes, I do," the slayer confessed when she found her voice. Angel chuckled humorlessly. 

            "Leave it to Spike to do that." 

            "Do what?" Buffy asked defensively. 

            "Spike is a soulless demon, Buffy. He has done things that you couldn't imagine--although he was never as bad as Darla, Dru or myself. He's killed two slayers and wanted you dead for years and yet…and yet you fall in love with him." 

            "Like you said," Buffy replied, oblivious of her rising anger, "he wasn't as bad as you and I was with you." 

            "I had a soul." 

            "So what." 

            Angel held his hands up when he saw the anger flaring in her eyes. "Easy, Buffy. I didn't mean it like that." 

            "You didn't?" She asked sarcastically. "You didn't mean to demean my love for Spike on the grounds that he has no soul? You didn't want to remind me of that fact?" 

            "That was my point, Buffy." He sighed. "Maybe I went about it the wrong way. Buffy, do you realize what you have in Spike? I mean do you truly understand what having his love means?" 

            Buffy opened her mouth to reply but as she thought about it, she wasn't completely sure if she actually did. 

            "What it means, Buffy, is that you have someone that will go to any lengths to keep you and yours safe. There is no one that he would not hurt or kill to save you, Dawn and the others. He doesn't have a soul, Buffy…" 

            "But the chip…" 

            "The chip will not stop him from tearing someone apart if they ever threaten you. Listen, as much as I dislike the idea of you and Spike together, as much as the thought of you and him having a…" Angel paused and Buffy noted the guilt that danced in his eyes. He shook it off and continued. "If Spike is one thing, it's loyal. He doesn't give it out much but when he does, he won't break it. Even with the things Dru did to him, he always wanted her back. I guess she left for good when he got the chip." 

            "No," Buffy said, "it was because of me. Dru came back to town a little over a year ago and Spike offered to kill her for me, if I would accept that he loves me." 

            "I'm guessing you didn't make it that easy, huh?" Angel asked, a tiny grin curling around the edges of his lips. 

            "You'd guess right. I didn't…I didn't think that a soulless being could love." 

            "Not many of them can. Not really. But Spike and Dru, Spike especially, were always different. They could love but, at the same time, their love was different than human love." He sat in thoughtful repose for several seconds before turning to Buffy. "The point is, Buffy, Spike will always be there for you. No matter how bad it gets between you two, he will never leave you. I saw that much in his eyes tonight." 

            Angel sighed deeply and Buffy knew that whatever he wanted to say was difficult to put to words. "Spike and I--we've had our differences." 

            "That's the biggest understatement in the history of the world." 

            "Yeah, well, what can I say?" They both chuckled, welcome for the slight release of tension. All too soon, Angel fixed Buffy with a serious gaze. "Buffy, I just want you to be happy, to make sure you know what you're getting into."

            "I may not know how much love Spike can give," Buffy admitted, "but I know that I'm getting a rude, obnoxiously loud, soulless vampire who is also caring, affectionate, loving and will do anything for me and Dawn. And yes, Angel, I am happy. At least, when he gets back." The last part was whispered but Angel caught it. 

            "As long as he treats you right, as long as he gives you everything you need, I just want you to do one thing for me." 

            "What's that?" 

            "Be good to him, Buffy." Buffy's eyes widened at the sincerity behind Angel's words and she opened her mouth to speak but failed to find anything to say. Giving up that thought, she nodded dumbly and Angel chuckled at her response.

            "Well," Buffy said after several minutes, "that wasn't exactly what I expected from you." 

            "If it's any consolation, I originally planned to call you crazy and threaten to stake him six ways to Sunday if you continued seeing each other. Of course, I knew you'd have told me where I can shove it and threatened me with a staking if I so much as looked at him wrong." 

            "You know me too well," Buffy giggled and Angel joined in with her. All too soon the laughter stopped and Angel's face became serious again. 

            "There is something else I want to talk with you about." 

            Buffy frowned at the rapid one-eighty of the vampire and she sat up straighter. "What is it?" 

            "I don't know how to tell you this and I'm…I'm pretty sure you're going to be pissed but…" 

            "Angel, spit it out," Buffy said and winced at the harshness of her tone. She couldn't help it. Angel's tiptoeing was making her nervous and a nervous Buffy equaled over-reactive Buffy. 

            "It's about--" he sighed. "It's about my s…" But the words caught in his throat and he shot to his feet and instinctively morphed into game face. 

            Buffy was not far behind and stood up, never taking her eyes off Angel as he looked to be sniffing the air. 

            "Angel, what is it?" She shook off any jitters at Angel's behavior and expanded her slayer senses. At first there was nothing but the gentle caress of wind against her skin but then there was the faintest prickle in her mind's eye. A familiar presence that…

            "Blood," Angel growled. "Spike's blood." Angel leapt off the porch onto the lawn and Buffy did likewise. She was right on his heels as he sprinted down the street, taking his queue as to where they were headed. But it wasn't necessary when a lump of something stumbled around the corner. The moonlight shone off a familiar blonde head and Buffy sped up, pulling even with Angel. 

            "Spike!" Buffy screamed and pulled up just in front of him. She studied his face and winced at the lacerations and bruises that marred his alabaster skin. His duster was ripped in several places but that was secondary to the bundle hoisted over one shoulder and the young black man propped against his other side. 

            Spike glanced up at Buffy and she saw relief in the eye that wasn't swollen shut. He smiled and the pain in that one gesture was evident. He looked like he would collapse within seconds but the slayer's muscles refused to move. 

            He looked from Buffy to Angel and back again and Buffy saw the brief flicker of hurt cross his blue eye. 

            " 'Lo, luv," he said with a smirk plastered across his swollen lips. "Lookie who I found." And with that, he fell to the ground. 

            "Spike," Buffy yelled as she dropped to her knees. The slayer pulled the body that fell across Spike's back to the side while Angel helped the semi-conscious man that had been leaning at Spike's side. 

            "Don't do this to me, you stupid vampire," she growled and flipped Spike onto his back. "Don't you dare do this to me," she repeated and pulled his head into her lap. Her fingers traced his battered face and tears blurred her vision as she whispered his name repeatedly. 

            "Buffy." The slayer's heart hitched in her chest when she heard her name, thinking for an instant that it was Spike. But she had watched him the whole time and he lips had yet to move. Still, the voice was eerily familiar. 

            "Buffy," the voice called again and the slayer turned to where she had pushed the limp body off of Spike. Her breath caught in her chest when she saw the figure that stared back at her. 

            His face was not as she remembered it. It was harder, more chiseled and his jaw was lined with a beard. His eyes looked bloodshot and hard but when they adjusted to her the warmth that she had welcomed all these years pulled her in and Buffy reached her hand out towards the man as if he were an illusion. 

            He must have realized her internal struggle and reached his hand to hers, meeting it halfway. Warmth spread through Buffy at the touch, she squeezed his fingers, and only when she was convinced he wouldn't disappear did she say his name. 

            "Xander?" 

TBC… 


	15. Interludes of Affection

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 14

__

Interludes of Affection

****

May 19th, 2002

4:56 a.m. 

She was near. Spike knew that with a certainty. Despite the pain in his shoulder and ribs and what had to be a cracked skull, the vampire senses weren't blunted enough to miss her presence. Her scent was a drug, a magic elixir to his undead flesh, bringing him to life no matter the circumstances. In a way, she was his lightning that reanimated his undead flesh. Of course, that ponce, the Frankenstein, never had it so well. 

_More or less, _he thought and groaned as the three words echoed in his head and, if he were under oath, the peroxide blonde would have sworn a bomb had exploded between his ears. 

Another moan escaped his split lips and, for a moment Spike wanted nothing than to be staked. This was worse than anything Glory had perpetrated against him, hell, it was worse than the sodding organ shattered his spine. 

_Definitely not a good memory to bring up in your current condition, mate. _But as loud as his nerves ached, the soothing psalm of her gentle touched muted the persistent voices of pain. 

"Cor, luv," he murmured and, ignoring the ache in his face, smiled. "You certainly 'ave tha' touch. Enough to bring a dead man back to life." He forced his eyes open and was greeted by the sight of his slayer. 

Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail and her bangs tumbled past her forehead. He stared in awe at the beautiful smile that adorned her face, a smile that was for him and him alone. It was more than enough to chase away the intense throbbing in his head, replacing the staccato drumbeat with the tender mercy that was her love. 

"Well, I can't have too much of a touch," she said, "since you're still dead and all." He leaned into the hand that caressed his face and he would have drifted into a much-needed slumber until a warm drop of water splashed his bare chest. 

"Luv?" Spike asked as he propped himself up on his elbows, grunting at the jilt of discomfort that cascaded through his thin frame. 

"Spike, don't…" 

"No, Buffy," he said and she squeezed her eyes shut. But it was two late and the vampire watched as a single tear broke free from under her lashes and bled down her cheek. Without hesitation Spike brushed the tear away with his thumb. He massaged her velvet flesh, cupping her cheek briefly before sliding his hand to the back of her neck. She opened her eyes and he saw the onslaught of tears she was so bravely attempting to push away. He smiled at her resilience and pulled his lover close. Her breath warmed his skin and Spike inhaled her scent once more before pressing his swollen lips to hers. 

Even at the moderate pressure in which the kiss started, Spike winced at the contact but ignored it in favor of tasting her. She was unresponsive at first until his tongue slid along her lower lip, demanding entrance into her mouth. She stiffened momentarily before she acquiesced to his request when his fingers started along the familiar trail at the nape of her neck. From there, all was forgotten as they melded together, their lips and tongues engaged in the ritualistic dance that had been perfected by once mortal enemies. 

Buffy moaned as Spike plunged his tongue deeper into the sweet caverns of her mouth. He smiled away the pain as her hands roamed over his alabaster flesh, her nails scratching over the bruises that lined his torso. Weakened by the ferocity that he had awakened within her, Spike fell back against the pillow and Buffy lowered herself on top of him. He groaned when she shifted her position to straddle him and Spike had to fight back the desire to claim her that welled within him. Her pulsating core ground against his lower regions, the friction of their jeans only fueling the necessity that they both felt. It was no longer want but need that drew them together; the need to feel loved and wanted, the need to be appreciated and, most importantly, the need to connect on the basest of levels in order to express what words could never give definition to. 

The slayer's undulating hips, however, were too much and despite the overwhelming need to feel her walls to ensnare him in a lover's embrace, Spike broke away. He chuckled at her whine of displeasure and leaning his forehead against hers, he cupped her face between his hands. 

"As much as I'd love to continue this to its very pleasurable conclusion, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to take a rain check on the forthcomin' Buffy lovin'." He smiled when she giggled and took the opportunity to nip at her lower lip. He swallowed a groan and his chest tightened when Buffy moaned in response but he broke the kiss before things got out of hand anymore. 

"Sorry," Buffy said. She pulled away from him, resting her hands on his chest as she sat up. Her hazel eyes were alit with a superfluous combination of feeling. Spike closed his eyes, terrified of what had looked back at him. Never had he seen Buffy, as she was now with her soul naked to him as his had always been to her. He wished for nothing more than for her to love him as much as he loved her but it had been something he dared not put too much hope in. Yes, she loved him--that much was clear to him. But could she surrender herself to him? Every part of her: the woman and the slayer. Could Buffy give that to him like William and the demon had supplicated themselves to their goddess? 

Shaking his head, Spike opened his eyes and returned Buffy's quizzical stare. Gone was the reflection of acceptance he had seen moments before and the vampire could not help but wonder if what he had seen was nothing more than wishful thinking; the dying man's oasis. 

"Baby, are you okay?" Buffy asked and Spike couldn't suppress the grin that surfaced at the endearment. 

"Fine, luv," he assured her and winked at her with the one eye that wasn't partially closed. "Gonna take more than a…whatever the bloody 'ell that demon was to stop me." He thought his wry grin would spread to her but it didn't. He frowned at the desolation that lapped at her features, coating her angelic face in melancholic repose. 

"Buffy? What is it?" 

She closed her eyes and released a trembling breath. Her nails dug into his chest and he noticed the minute quiver of her lower lip. When she opened her eyes again, the same coating of tears glistened in her eyes and Spike wanted nothing more than to kiss them away. 

After what seemed like hours, Buffy sighed deeply and said, "I thought I lost you." Even with his enhanced hearing, Spike had had difficulty discerning her words but when he did, the vampire slid his hands up her arms and, grabbing her shoulders, gently pulled her to his chest. 

"There now, luv," he cooed. "Not need to cry. I'm 'ere. Promised till the end of the world, 'member?" She nodded into his flesh and he kissed the top of her head. "I'm always gonna be there for you, Buffy. Always. I'll never let anything get between us." As if the declaration was her cue, Buffy let loose the tears she had been holding for the past three hours. Spike winced as they burned into his flesh; a baptism of salty liquid against him, warming him where there was no heat. He absently stroked her back, whispering a litany of choruses that expressed his fealty to her no matter the circumstances. 

He didn't know how long he held her before her tears dried up and her sobs filtered out. Even when her breathing evened out, Spike still murmured comforting words of love and devotion to his slayer. His slayer. She was that and, if it were up to him, would always be. But he was not a fool; he knew that, notwithstanding the love she felt for him, that things would change. They always did. Somewhere down the line a wedge would be driven between them and once removed would be the final splinter that ended them and, in effect, would either turn him to dust or strengthen their monolithic bond. 

Spike closed his eyes, determined to chase away the thoughts that threatened to rip his already fragile psyche from its moors. It was so bloody difficult to do so but the sweet scent of vanilla lulled him into a false comfort. He ignored the voice in his head that whispered for him to prepare for the worst. No, he would not think of anything save for the petite young woman splayed atop of him, her face burrowed in the crook of his neck. He would use this time, this peace, as solace in the arms of the woman he loved more than life itself. 

As he drifted into that dark place where the world was cast out and his thoughts were his own, Spike couldn't shake the thought that the splinter he had so poetically referenced wouldn't come between he and Buffy. No. It would be the one thing that would obliterate his will to live.

He just hoped it finished him before he lost her. 

*&*

**__**

4:57 a.m. 

The smooth caresses against his head were what pulled C.J. from his unwilling slumber. He tried to remember what had happened but the agonizing throb of pain interrupted all coherent thoughts and the only thing he could do was moan. 

"C.J.?" The familiar voice asked. It was near by and he tried to open his eyes but they stubbornly remained closed. _Okay, if I can't open my eyes, I might as well try to move. _He discovered that moving had been a worse idea than opening his eyes. The muscles in his back began to spasm and he would have screamed if it weren't for the cowl of exhaustion that covered every cell. Instead, he settled for a low moan that summarized his misery nicely before falling into the darkened abyss of unconsciousness.

**_5:26 a.m. _**

The same caresses that had awakened him before were back and the buoy of his consciousness rode the waves of pain that continued crashing against every fiber of his being. Thankfully, their assault on his muscles had lessened and instead of tsunamis of agony, he was wrought with a spattering of exquisite suffering that only violated portions of his body; the parts that were in the clear throbbed with dull aches that were in the definitive realm of tolerable. 

"You're gonna be okay, C.J., I promise." That voice again. It penetrated the roiling fog that isolated him from anything other than his body's torment. He let out a shaky breath as the voice continued to talk to him, murmuring words of encouragement. For a moment, the pain was forgotten and C.J. was aware of nothing save for the comforting voice of his siren, whose jasmine scent that filled his nostrils and briefly put the injured man in mind of heaven's fragrance. And truthfully, were it not for the pain that danced along his nerves in sadistic torture, C.J. would have thought that he was dead and in the presence of a seraphim. 

Of course, he was sure that heaven wasn't filled with this sort of pain and he seriously doubted angels that were charged with ushering the lost souls through the pearly gates kissed their subjects. In that same train of thought, C.J. wouldn't have complained. 

Even if it was the briefest of touches, his angel's lips were silk, soft, full, and tasted of raspberries. C.J. wanted to devour her, claim her as his own but when he opened his lips to reciprocate, she pulled back suddenly. 

"C.J.?" Hope tinged his name and he smiled. Slowly he tried again to open his eyes and, though the pain lanced out at him, his lids slid open enough for him to see. 

When the light first hit his eyes, C.J. blanched at the blurry image that tainted his vision. He blinked several times and was rewarded when something off to his right began to come into focus. 

At first it was nothing more than an effervescent, verdant glow that filtered through the haze. But as he concentrated on the light, a distinct shape cut through the light and haze. Although his eyes still could not make out the figure in detail, C.J. could discern that it was a woman. A young, vibrant woman with beautiful black hair and smelled of jasmine. Slowly, his jumbled neurons began to make connections between the voice, the scent and the comforting presence. They were pieces of a larger puzzle that his mind had assembled and, despite visual confirmation, his mind had deciphered the identity of his caretaker. 

"Dawn?" He asked, his voice hoarse from the trauma and pain. 

The emerald glow returned for an instant and the young man wondered if that was a sign of her smile. 

"How are you feeling?" His heart jumped at the concern expressed in those four simple words. He wished he could respond poetically, announcing his immediate recovery because of the sonorous sounds of her voice or the enigmatic luminescence that surrounded her. If only he could say it and mean it. Instead, he responded with the truth. 

"All right, I guess. Except for the napalm that detonated along my spine and the truck that ran over me afterwards. Yep, other than that, I'm just peachy." 

Dawn chuckled and C.J. winced when the mattress shifted underneath him. Dawn cupped his face and leaned closer to him. 

"I…I'm so sorry," she whispered and he heard the tears building momentum within her. He sighed at the prospect of Dawn crying and, denying the pain satisfaction of anything else, C.J. sat up as best he could, slid his hand behind Dawn's neck and pulled her to him. 

Unlike the previous kiss she had given him earlier, C.J. was a willing participant in this one. He ignored the discomfort of opening his lips to her and instead took pleasure in the tender brush of her lips across his. The need to consume her whole enveloped his entire being and, without even thinking, C.J. deepened the kiss. 

He sensed her hesitancy but continued forward, catching her lower lip between his and sucking on it in an attempt to coax the teen from her shyness. As much as he desired it, C.J. was still surprised when Dawn responded accordingly and thrust her tongue into his mouth. If her lips were raspberries, the taste of her tongue was something much more, something more life giving than any cosmic ball of light set in the sky. Energy poured into his mouth and his body was aglow with the warmth of this radiant creature that had possessed his thoughts, waking and otherwise, for the past several weeks. 

Her tongue slid across his and C.J. shivered at the blistering heat that radiated from her and, for one instant, the pain was gone. 

The moment didn't last, however, and the distraction of the kiss finally gave way to the familiar stab in his spine. He pulled away from her and fell to the pillow, biting his lip to avoid vocalizing his discomfort. 

"C.J.? Are you…" 

"I'm fine, Em. Just fine," he replied and smiled at her. He wanted to stay awake--to assure her that he was all right but he lost the battle and answered the call of his body's need for rest. His thoughts were no more as the familiar blanket of darkness covered his pain-addled mind and he was again shut out from the world, unaware of confusion his last words had had on Dawn. 

And the young slayer from another time that had watched the scene in silence. 

*&*

__ ****

5:42 a.m. 

"How's he doing?" 

Willow craned her neck and glanced towards the door. Leaning against the threshold was Tara, dressed in a cream colored nightgown that hugged her breasts and accented the benevolence that radiated from the young Wicca's angelic face. 

The red head smiled and beckoned her lover in the room with a single glance. Tara flowed across the room in a divine grace and rested her hands on Willow's tense shoulders. The red head sighed in content at her lover's touch and relaxed slightly, allowing some of the tension to bleed from her muscles. 

"Better I guess. I mean, he's not doing the shaky, spasm-y thingy anymore."

"He looks better." 

"Yeah. I guess some of those bruises were just caked blood or something because there aren't as many there anymore." 

Tara furrowed her eyebrows at the hesitancy in the other woman's voice. She walked in front of Willow and kneeled down next to the chair. "Sweetie, what is it?" 

Willow opened her mouth to deny the charges but stopped when she saw the concern in Tara's eyes. "I…I don't know. It's like…something's different about him." 

"He's been gone three months, baby. He's bound to be different than the last time you saw him. And…and he watched Anya die in his arms. Something like that would really affect someone. I mean, put yourself in his position."

Willow shivered at the thought. She wrapped her arms around her and closed her eyes in an attempt to drive out the thought of Tara dying in her arms. No, it was something that she refused to contemplate. 

"Yeah," she agreed, "I see what you mean." Tara smiled sadly and stood but grasped Willow's hand, intertwining their fingers. They remained like that for several minutes, staring at the unconscious man on the bed. Before he had passed out, he had given Buffy a vague account of what happened and though they lacked detail on the demon, Giles had left to research the beast. That had been three hours ago and Xander had still not awakened. 

"Honey?" Tara said and Willow noticed the tension in the other woman's voice. 

"Tara? Is something wrong?"

"I…I don't know. I just read him…his aura. Willow, you were right. Something is different about him. It's like it's not--"

"Him?" 

"N…no. It's not like when Buffy and Faith switched bodies. It's more like…it's like when I read Buffy. There's more there than if she wasn't a slayer. The power of the slayer gives her aura this…this extra layer to it." 

"And that's what you're reading with Xander?" 

"Yes." 

Willow nodded and gently pulled her hand out of Tara's grasp. She brushed her fingertips across Xander's forehead, noting with satisfaction that his fever had completely dissipated. Her fingers trailed down his arm and she took his hand in hers, squeezing his fingers in support. 

"Xander," she whispered, "you have to wake up." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "We need you." 

The two Wiccas remained there for several minutes until Willow told Tara to get some rest. Reluctantly, the soft-spoken woman agreed and left but not before gracing Willow's lips with a tender kiss. 

"Just call if you need me," she said and on Willow nod, glided out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. 

Willow stared for several seconds at the door that Tara had disappeared through before turning her attention back to her oldest friend. Her eyes traveled over him. Tara was right; there was something different about him. True, the physical differences were easy to notice. The corded muscles of his arm, the angular jut of his jaw bone, not to mention the beard that lined his face. And even with his eyes closed, Willow saw the sadness that concealed his once boyish features.

But it was more than that. Something had changed for him on a fundamental level and while Anya's death may have been the catalyst for that, it wasn't what had made the change within him. 

"But you're still my Xander," she said. Abandoning her post on the chair, Willow stood and walked to the other side of the bed. She lowered herself onto the bed, snaked her arm through his and snuggled against his shoulder. 

"You're still my Xander," she repeated, "and I love you." Without another word, Willow closed her eyes and allowed sleep to claim her. 

She never heard the brunette sneak into the room and lay the gentle kiss on Xander's cheek before murmuring a heartfelt apology to him before fleeing the room. 

TBC…


	16. Dominoes

Severed Ties 

****

Chapter 15

__

Dominoes 

****

Sunnydale

May 18th, 2002

Early Morning 

Everything was in place. 

As he glanced around the room, Algolagniar smiled at the circle of bodies that surrounded him. Three men, two women and four children, all in various states of disarray, were lined equidistant from his position at the center of the macabre circle. He had striped them of their clothing and only the unconscious bodies of the children had escaped defilement at his hands. No, they were to be unspoiled in order for the H'anak Dou to be successful. That notwithstanding, the children would probably be scarred for life after witnessing the purple skinned demon take the others in the most gruesome of ways. What he had done to the two women and the man who had dared fight back…no one could un-see the violations Algolagniar had perpetrated on them and the demon was quite proud of his ability to distill so much damage and yet leave the victims alive. Comatose, quite possibly, but alive nonetheless. Oh, how he wished them to awaken and relive his desecration of their flesh for their remaining years--that was the most fulfilling part of inflicting pain upon others. 

Too bad they would all be dead in minutes. 

It matters not, the beast thought. I will have endless puppets to play with once my Master arrives. Algolagniar smiled deliciously at the prospects of exacting revenge from the three man-demons he had fought earlier. Especially the vampire. 

The demon growled as he lit the candles in front of him and his mind returned to the single reason he had not finished the three warriors in the field of the dead. His knee, which the blood-drinker had shattered, still burned, sending the intoxicating tendrils of agony through his limbs. Kneeling only intensified the pain, which, in turn, strengthened him and his resolve to make the vampire pay. But for now…

"Gods of Darkness, Denizens of Evil; I, Algolagniar, beseech your services in the services of Gabriel, Lord of the Hellmouth." Algolagniar closed his eyes and inhaled the pungent scent of air that lacked the exhilarating redolence of death that salted the atmosphere of Quortoth and the Earth from whence he had traveled. It didn't matter, though, considering that that particular oversight would be rectified soon. 

Palms out, the demon tipped his head towards the sky and continued his unholy supplication in the long-dead language. "The strength of three, I give you." He glanced towards the men's bodies. At first there was nothing but he felt the minute change in the atmosphere and immediately thereafter the three male bodies were engulfed in a purplish-red flame. The flesh sizzled and contorted for several seconds before the bodies collapsed inwardly, melting into a viscous pool of reflective silver. 

"Two that receive the seed and give life." The two unconscious women slowly rose into the air, the tattered remains of their clothing billowing in the wind that sprung up from the three glistening pools of silver. The gale slowly increased, swirling around Algolagniar with the force of a hurricane. He closed his eyes and reveled in the gusts as it cut across his flesh. He sensed the two bodies ripped apart by the relentless hurricane though nothing else in the room was disturbed. 

When he opened his eyes, Algolagniar squinted at the dual pulsating bluish-green lights that danced before him. They were twice as big as the bodies that they had once been and swirled with the grace of dancers well versed in seduction. It took the hulking demon a moment to clear his thoughts as the lights called to him, whispered promises of death and destruction, pleasures beyond all imagining. 

Using all of his energies, the Quortoth beast focused on the crystal at the center of the triangle candles in front of him. Its dull tint now shone with the faintest of glows; it flickered on and off like a distant shard of lightning and with the same unmistakable power. Still, the ritual was only two-thirds complete. It was time for the final incantation. 

"Blood of the young, flesh of the innocent. I offer it up to you…" he was interrupted when the room was flooded with an intense white light. There was no preamble as the four young bodies disintegrated into a heavenly radiance that tore at the demon with rage that was enough to mute his bellowing protest of agony. Every nerve and tendon sizzled as the light intensified to immeasurable levels, burning his retinas through the skin of his eyelids. His two hearts seized, constricting to half their normal size and he felt the blood pour freely from invisible wounds along his wrists as he held them out to the side, parallel with the ground. His limbs shook with the effort of keeping his arms upright and Algolagniar tried to concentrate on his final task. 

Despite his reluctance, the demon opened his eyes. The brilliance of the light had softened enough for him to catch a glimpse of the once opaque crystal hovering before him. It expanded and contracted in time with the palpitations of his hearts and that knowledge assisted him in focusing on his final call. 

"I grant you access to thought and mind, intent and will; take as it is yours." The crystal dimmed to the point of its prior inactivity before it filled with the triumvirate of colors that had lined the circle--silver, blue-green and the purest of whites. He saw a minute span of black in the center of it and, before he could prepare, the crystal burst into a thousand jagged pieces that embedded into his flesh. 

Algolagniar screamed to the heavens as the pain grasped him around the throat and slithered through his veins. It tore at him from the inside, unconscionable in its journey. It was like nothing he had ever felt and, for the first time, the beast that fed on pain wanted to beg for mercy if only the unspeakable torment would cease. 

So absorbed in the torture that visited his flesh, Algolagniar didn't see that same minute dot that had been in the crystal's center now hover before him. He didn't feel its probing of his mind or its restless motions before him. But he was all too aware of the dazzling stab of white-hot anguish when it burrowed through his skull and into his mind. 

After that, he knew no more. 

**__**

Future Time. 

Morrigann was absolutely breathtaking. 

It may have been a clichéd expression but it was true nonetheless. In the physical sense, with her exotic features coupled with a body sculpted to perfection, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Even the radiance that had pulsated from Emerald paled in comparison to Morrigann's supernatural magnificence and he knew that her mastery lie in the seduction of men. Were it not for the incalculable power that coursed through his veins, Gabriel knew that he would be at her mercy as well. 

He watched from the bed as she danced for him. Her hips swayed rhythmically to a melody all her own and the liquid grace of her body was enough to draw Gabriel's attention. 

"To what do I owe this honor, my luscious Salome?" Gabriel asked as Morrigann slowly danced over to his bed. 

"You are Gabriel," she whispered and her hand slipped underneath the waistband of her silk skirt. "And that is enough." The Lord Vampire growled as her delicate fingers traced the curls of her mound. The translucent material hid nothing from view and Gabriel took pleasure at the sight of her muscular legs flexing as she walked towards him. Her fingers trailed against the inside of her thigh and she gasped as one disappeared from view. 

"That I am, woman," he murmured and sat up as Morrigann neared the edge of the bed. "And you will not forget that." His hand shot out with supernatural speed and he buried his fingers in the thick, motley-colored mane of the succubus before jerking her onto the bed, slamming Morrigann onto her back. He lowered his body to hers, prying her legs apart with sheer will and pinned her arms to the bed with his superior strength. 

"Do you fancy yourself a tease, Bitch?" He spat and nipped at her jugular with blunt teeth. 

"I am a succubus, after all, Master." The last word was coated with disdain and Gabriel knew the attitude was another one of her games. Still, he did not take kindly to even mock disrespect. 

Clasping both her wrists in one hand, Gabriel used his free hand to unfasten the buttons of his leather pants with deft precision. In seconds he had pushed them down to mid-thigh, freeing his bulbous erection. He reached down towards the succubus's powerful thigh and traced the soft cool flesh of her leg. Not only did it heighten her arousal but the thin fabric of the skirt was pushed up towards her waist and out of the way. 

**__**

Morrigann threw her head back and squirmed when he teased her with his length, pressing it against her opening. Every nerve tingled with the anticipation of being filled, of sharing the power and memories of her angelic lover, even if it lasted a few moments. She raised her hips and whimpered, urging him to plunge into her. But he remained still. 

Gabriel chuckled at Morrigann's desperate need. She was always like this when he slid between her thighs and the Lord vampire knew that, as much as her sex was her greatest strength, it was also her greatest weakness; one that he took pleasure in exploiting. "Look at me." His tone was hard and unyielding and the succubus found herself drawn to the power of his voice. 

"You are mine," he said and punctuated his words with a vicious thrust, sheathing himself fully within her. "Mine to do with as I please. Understand?" He plunged deeper into her with every word, satisfaction twisting his features at the pleasure and pain he was giving her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he gasped when she locked her ankles together. It was enough of a distraction for Morrigann to wriggle out of his grip and her hands explored his naked body, her nails carving shallow tributaries into his flesh. 

The pain and dizzying scent of arousal permeating the air drove Gabriel insane with lust. The lesson he had wanted to impart to her forgotten, the vampire quickened the rhythm and soon they were both lost in a hedonistic frenzy.

Morrigann was the first to come, screaming his name as her nails tore into the flesh of his back; it stimulated him more and, before he knew it, Gabriel followed her with his own apex, spilling himself into her blissful void. He retained enough control not to sample the addiction that was her blood, treating himself to the psychedelic assault on his senses that it had twice a week at most. He had not doubt that, were he to sample more, regardless of his power, he would never be able to think past the inviting pull of her sex. 

As they drifted from their high and Gabriel moved to roll of her, a sharp pain shattered his peace and the Vampire Lord clutched his head. 

"My Lord? Are you all right?" Morrigann asked and rolled to her side. Gabriel sensed the genuine concern in her voice and accepted her gentle touch. 

"I'm fine, Morrie," he chuckled, thankful that the pain had subsided as quickly as it had appeared but there was still a weighted sensation in his mind that refused to depart. That was when the memories started. 

"Algolagniar," he whispered and tried to slow the images as they raced through his mind. 

"My Lord?" Morrigann put a hand to his head and felt the warmth that radiated from his skull. "What is this?" 

"Algolagniar performed the H'anak Dou. It is a ritual taught in Quortoth. With it, one may transmit one's thoughts to another, whether the distance between the two is dimensional or temporal. Right now I am seeing the images that our 

vein-y warrior has seen. A preview, of sorts, of what to expect when we reach Sunnydale." 

"Can it be shared? With someone other than the intended receiver?" 

"Why do you ask?" 

Morrigann scooted closer towards Gabriel and her fingers caressed the muscles of his thigh. "My Lord, being that I will lead the others through the portal and arrive nearly two months prior to your arrival, it would be…prudent for me to understand what I will face--would it not?"

The dark-haired vampire closed his eyes and re-focused on the images before him. Without warning, his hands shot out and clasped Morrigann's head tightly in his palms. She gasped, her eyes wide with surprise before those same color-shifting eyes glazed over and Gabriel knew that she was experiencing what he was seeing. He smiled before closing his eyes and concentrating on the three figures…

_The Slayer's Dudley-Do-Right flies at the purple-skinned giant, weapons cutting through the air. He slashes the giant several times before being disarmed. Despite his de-Zeppoed state, hand-to-hand, he is no match. The giant is ready to deliver the killer blow when…_

A dark-skinned man interrupts, saving the Jokester's life. He is thrown off-guard by the familiarity in dark eyes…very familiar dark eyes. And he knows. Yes, it is him. But how? No, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that his greatest warrior is alive--but isn't…

The fight lasts several minutes and the bald-headed warrior holds his own. Still, it is not enough and he, too, falls to the power of the beast. 

The creature remembers being bested by the dazed man and smiles, reveling in a chance for vengeance. He touches his hand to the man's spine, shuddering in ecstasy at the pain-filled screams. He does this for several minutes to the helpless warrior and…

A platinum and black streak interrupts the torture and the beast is hurled away. Momentarily stunned, it takes several moments for the beast to regain his bearings. When he does, he rises and sees the blonde kneeling over the first man. He creeps up towards the vampire and attacks, quickly gaining the upper hand. It doesn't last, as the vampire is faster and more cunning. He undead flesh absorbs the blows, not affected as much as living tissue would be. Still, he is weakened and the beast will prevail…

The first man attacks again, slicing the beast in the back. It barely stings but the distraction is enough. The vampire's heel slams into the beast's knee, shattering bone, ripping tendons and cartilage. He grabs the beast by the arm and, with all his undead strength, hurls the beast into the brush…

Stunned, the beast rises on unsteady legs and watches as the three warriors retreat far into the night…

"Fuck!" Morrigann shouted as Gabriel released her from his grip. She massaged her temples for several moments before gathering her thoughts to face Gabriel. "Who were they?" 

Gabriel smiled and pinned her with lust-filled eyes. "The first one was a nobody. Was in love with the slayer for awhile." His finger traveled the expanse of his jaw and she shivered. 

"He didn't look like a 'nobody' to me." 

"Don't know what to tell you. Guess he got all powered up or something." 

"And the other one? The black guy?" She idly drew patterns on his chest. 

"He's ahh…" Gabriel moaned, thankful for the distraction and the fact that she hadn't recognized him. "I don't know who that was." 

"Seemed like you knew him," she murmured. She leaned forward and caught the silver hoop that pierced Gabriel's nipple and pulled it with her teeth, eliciting another growl from him. "Come to think of it, his eyes…" But Gabriel never let her finished and his hand plunged between her legs. Morrigann spasmed and it took only seconds of deft ministrations with his fingers to push her over the edge once more. 

The brunette vampire's hands roamed across the succubus's luxuriant curves, coaxing her from her climax but, at the same time, slowly building an even hotter fire within her. 

"And the vampire?" She whispered and lathered his collarbone with her tongue. 

"Oh, that wee lass is William," he said and laughed. "Always trying to bite off more than he can chew, that one. Should have put him down when he was a pathetic fledgling." His words knocked Morrigann from her explorations of his flesh and Gabriel sighed at his mistake. 

"You knew him?" 

"You could say that," he muttered and roughly squeezed Morrigann's ass. She jumped and reflexively maneuvered closer to him. He took advantage and tattooed her jugular with light kisses, biting down every so often. 

"I want him," she moaned as one of his fingers violated her second opening. "I want to taste him and fuck him. He looks so delectable; I know he would be a pleasing lover." 

"That he is," Gabriel said, chuckling as memories of a past time crept into his mind and overflowed his veins, causing his aroused member to throb with need. 

"So," Morrigann said and ceased all movement. She pinned her Lord with imploring eyes. "Can I have him? Make him my slave?" 

"Be my guest," Gabriel conceded and she smiled before assaulting his lips. Her tongue invaded his mouth and she pushed him to his back. In the transition, she had impaled herself onto his rigid cock and Gabriel cried out at the heat that radiated from her undead flesh. 

"I'll fuck him like this, you know," she said and used all her unnatural strength to buck forward. Gabriel's hands found her waist and his nails dug into her flesh. The pain only aroused her further and she rode him harder, stopping every so often to swirl her hips in slow, concentric circles. 

"Do me a favor before you do," he said and pulled her down for a deep kiss. 

"And what's that?" she asked, swallowing unnecessary breaths. 

"Make sure you tell him I was here first." On her confused stare, he sighed and slammed into her stationary form. She jerked helplessly and Gabriel knew that she was at the precipice of gratification for a third time. 

"Why?" she muttered as her body was wracked by her most intense orgasm of the evening. 

Gabriel watched her breasts heave as she shook with pleasure and he could no longer help himself. Flipping her onto her back, he pounded into her with a renewed vibrancy and roared right before his fangs elongated and he sunk them into her flesh.As his orgasm claimed him, their gazes locked. Gabriel saw the brief confusion on her face before it melted into understanding. She had understood at least a portion of what she had seen but that didn't stop Gabriel from voicing his motivation after he calmed down. 

"Let's just say that dear old William has a predilection for sampling my sloppy seconds." Outrage flickered across the succubus's eyes but was quickly swallowed up by the eternal desire that burned within her. 

"Is that so?" she asked. When he nodded, Morrigann slid a finger between them and rubbed the moisture that pooled at her sex. Her gaze never wavered from the brown eyes staring down at her as she seductively brought the wet finger to her lips. Her tongue darted out and she sampled the combination of fluids before her thick lips engulfed the digit. Gabriel muttered his satisfaction and obediently took the finger in his mouth when she offered it to him. The simple taste of her was enough to invigorate his flesh and Morrigann felt him harden inside her. 

"Well," she said as he started once more to rhythmically move within her, "I guess I'll have to be the tastiest seconds he's ever had…" 


	17. Never a Dull Moment

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 16

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Never a Dull Moment 

****

Author's note: Just so you know, from now on, Buffy and Spike's daughter will be called Jay from here on out, to avoid confusing her with Faith. 

****

May 19th, 2002

Sunnydale

Buffy awoke to a cool hand strumming invisible cords along her spine. Every stroke of his fingertips against her flesh elicited pleasured sighs from her nerve endings. She tried to fight the easy cadence of her limbs singing for encore after encore but her traitorous body ignored her protestations. 

Spike rumbled beneath her and Buffy raised her head and looked him in the eyes. Her heart rate always escalated whenever she was around him and today was no different. Even with they had been mortal enemies, Buffy had never been to be in his presence without her heart doing the teenage fluttery thing. At times she loved it but all too often she felt so vulnerable that she instinctively went on the defensive. 

"Something funny?" she asked him as she frowned. 

Spike cocked his head to the side and offered her smirk 1.0, the friendly version. "Nothing funny, pet," he whispered and ran his hands up and down her sides, stopping just below her breasts each time. It took all of her collective willpower--which, with Spike, rarely lasted--not to jump him right there. Thoughts of riding him into oblivion and feeling him pulse inside of her…

Buffy's eyes widened when Spike sniffed the air and his smirk transformed into version 2.0, the cocky upgrade. He opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it. 

"Well, it sure as hell looks like something is funny to you," she said and pushed herself up from his chest. Before she could remove herself from atop of him, Spike grabbed her wrists and pulled her back down. 

"Where you goin', luv?" he whispered and peppered her jaw line with the softest of kisses. Buffy gasped and started to grind her hips against him, the tinglies that now populated her lower regions taking over. 

Buffy heard the deep inhalation Spike took while he nuzzled the crook of her neck and felt the insistent prodding of his hands as they stroked her flesh. "Know what I smell?" he murmured into her neck as his tongue slithered up and down the column of her jugular. 

"Can't be good," she stuttered, "since I haven't brushed my teeth ye-et." The last word was a high-pitched wail as Spike attacked her earlobe. 

"S'not what I smell, pet," he said and his hands slipped underneath the waistband of her jeans and cupped her ass. "What I smell is a tad bit lower than your mouth. But it has lips just the same." Buffy squeezed her thighs together at the innuendo and the vampire took advantage of her distracted state, slipping his tongue into her ear and a hand between her thighs. 

"God, Spike," Buffy moaned and scooted up his body to allow him better access to her more intimate parts. 

"That's it, luv," Spike whispered as his deft fingers stroked Buffy's slit from the back. His other hand unsnapped her jeans and slid down the front of her pants. He cupped her groin and sought out her clit. "Cor, luv. You are so wet. All for me right? All for me." 

Buffy could only nod as Spike teased her clit, rubbing it in that way that drove her insane with need. Everything was forgotten save for the wicked performance of his hands and his baritone voice that gave shape to his lecherous thoughts. 

"Want you," she murmured and ground against him harder. She was so close to coming. It had been too long and although she wanted him inside her when she did, the sensations were too much for her to tell him much less stop, if even for a moment. Instead Buffy opted to allow the bliss to wash over her and worry about stiffer things later. 

When Buffy heard the knock and subsequent opening of the door, she was too far-gone to do anything but ride her orgasm out. She ran her fingers through Spike's hair and buried her face into his neck, screaming into his flesh as her body exploded into countless pieces before slowly reforming. 

She stayed that way for several minutes, clinging to him as if her very life depended on it. Finally, Buffy lifted her head and peeked at Spike through her curtain of hair. She couldn't help but laugh at his amused expression and she buried her head in his chest. 

"Tell me someone didn't just walk in on us," she said, her muffled voice causing the vampire to shake with laughter. 

"I could tell you that, luv, but it'd be a lie." On her embarrassed groan, Spike dislodged his hand from underneath her pants and stroked her silken hair with his knuckles. "No worries, Slayer. It was just Glinda. She won't say a thing." 

"That's just great. So now that's twice that she's caught us in the act."

"That it is." When Buffy sat up, Spike wriggled his eyebrows at her. "Course, she didn't see my stiffy this time around."

"Yeah, but I can sure as hell feel it." Buffy slid her hand between their bodies and gripped the bulge in his pants roughly. 

"Buffy," Spike moaned. "As much as I wanna have a go with you, we need to get downstairs. Glinda said the others are awake." 

"But I want you inside of me," she whined.

"Cor, luv. You don't know how much I want that, either. But we don't 'ave enough time." Buffy stuck her lip out, hating that Spike was right. But just as quickly as the frown appeared, it disintegrated into a devilish grin. "Buffy…" Spike said as he eyed the slayer suspiciously. 

"You're right, you know," she said and slid down his body until her face was even with his groin. "We don't have time for Hide-the-Spikey." Her tiny hands unbuttoned his jeans and she caught his zipper with her teeth, ushering it down. His cock sprang from its prison and Buffy eyed it hungrily. 

"But," she said and flicked her tongue across the tip, loving how his eyes rolled back in his head, "we do have time for this." As she engulfed him fully within her mouth, Buffy couldn't help but smile at herself. It made her feel so good to know that she had such an effect on a being whose life had been about sex just as much as violence. It was during these times, their moments of physical bonding, that Buffy realized with certainty that Spike was hers--wholly and completely. But it was not something that was mutual. She still saw his insecurities whenever they made eye contact. His life had been full of pain and disappointment and, despite her words of love, she knew he still remembered the knives she had twisted in his gut during their trysts all those months ago. 

As he called her name, Buffy slid a hand between her thighs, timing her second orgasm with his first. Her only coherent thought as Spike came was that, somehow, someway, she would convince him that she was never going anywhere. It didn't matter how long it took because they did have eternity, after all. 

*&*

By the time Buffy and Spike made it down the steps, the latter still hobbling from injuries, the living room was populated by the Scoobies plus one. Willow, Tara and Dawn sat on the couch, several tomes spread out on the table before them. Buffy noticed her daughter playing cards (quite amicably, she observed) with Faith. The latter had her hair twisted in a tight ponytail that resembled Dawn's handy work. 

"Spike," the youngest Summers said as she hopped over the table and crushed the vampire in a desperate hug. "You're awake." 

"That I am, Niblet," he said and stroked the girl's silken hair with one hand as the other held her close to him. He nodded at Willow and Tara, smirking at the blush that populated the latter's cheeks, before turning his attention back to the bundle in his arms. "But I won't be for long if you don't ease up on tha grip." Dawn's arms dropped to the side and she gave her best friend a shy smile before backing away, her place immediately filled by Jay. 

"Whoa, there, Bitlet. Gonna give your pops a sodding heart attack, you know." 

"If it beat," she said with her voice muffled from her face being buried in his chest. Buffy watched all of this from the side and she fought back the contented tears that threatened to spill from watching the family reunion. Though the others--save for Faith--were just as much a part of the family as she could ask for, Buffy had no doubt that her, Jay, Spike and Dawn was something she had always wanted. Blood, love and devotion bound them and that was something no one could ever take away from them. 

"So," Buffy said after kissing her daughter on the cheek, "where are the others?" 

"Xander and CJ are still in bed," Willow informed her best friend. "Angel and Cordelia are still at the hotel and said they would be by later. And Giles dropped these books off for us to look through while he contacts some of his more private-y resources." 

"So he thinks it's that bad?" 

"He just wanted to take precautions, find out everything he can about whatever it was that attacked Spike and the others," Tara said. 

Spike shrugged. "Rupert's probably wastin' his time. Nothin' special about the overgrown Barney that's runnin' loose out there 'cept…" 

"Spike, what is it?" Buffy put a hand on his shoulder for support and waited for him to continue. 

"Don't rightly know. It's just that--I've taken so shots before. Hell, tortured by a soddin hell god for hours can…" 

"Wait a minute," Faith interrupted, "did you say hell god?" 

"Yeah," Dawn said. 

"When was this? And why didn't anybody tell me?" The brunette slayer stood and Buffy saw her face twist in annoyance--and was that hurt?

"It happened last year, Faith," Buffy informed her sister slayer, "and if I'm correct about things, you had a prior engagement; something I believe is called prison." The other slayer flinched at the words but said nothing and drifted into the background again. 

"Mom," Jay started and Buffy silenced her with a look. "Fine," she said although her tone brokered no argument that they would definitely talk about this later. 

"You were saying?" Buffy said and pulled Spike further into the room. She noticed the smiles Willow and Tara tried to hide as they watched her with Spike and though she knew they were already cool with Spike, she was still relieved to see their open support. 

"Right," Spike said and sat in the recliner. Buffy sat on the arm, her legs splayed across his laps and one arm slung around his neck. "Like I said, at a hundred and twenty, a bloke gets used to a little rough and tumble. Ya know? Anyway, when this blighter hit me, it was like…" 

"Everything was on fire," Willow supplied. 

"Right. How did you know?" 

"Before he passed out last night, Xander said something about his nerves being on fire." 

"He did, did he?" Spike said and caught Willow's gaze. Buffy saw something pass between them before Willow ducked her head. Spike glanced up at her and saw the suspicion in Buffy's eyes and he gave her leg a reassuring squeeze. Buffy smiled and decided to leave it alone. For now. 

"Well," the vampire continued, "the wh--he's right 'bout that. Every time it touched me was like a thousand shocks going through my system. Like nothing I've ever faced before."

"No one ever has." Everyone turned towards the voice and saw CJ holding onto the wall, his legs visibly trembling. 

"You okay there, kid?" Faith asked and took a few steps in his direction but Dawn beat her to it. 

"What are you doing out of bed?" she asked and put her arm around his waist. Buffy watched the display impassively, a direct opposite of her lover; Spike tensed when CJ leaned against Dawn's body and she was afraid that he would pounce at any moment. Buffy stroked Spike's tousled hair, thankful when the demon that was close to surfacing relaxed--even though it was still waiting for CJ to give it a reason... 

"Sorry, baby, but as much as it was a privilege to be in your room, those posters were really starting to give me the willies." 

"What's wrong with my posters?" 

"Face it, Dawnie," Jay said and helped Dawn walk CJ towards the couch, "your taste in music sometimes has much to be desired." The teen huffed and it roused several chuckles from the audience. 

"See if I ever let you in my bed again," she grumbled and pushed him down to the couch. 

"Ouch," he groaned. "The lady doth injure me with her callous hands and harsh words. Were I not to be invited to your bed, I'd…" 

"Be bloody well grateful that I was alive, mate," Spike interrupted. CJ looked at the platinum blonde and, as much as he wanted to appear benevolent, he couldn't hide the challenge that sparkled in his brown eyes. 

"Spike," Buffy whispered, catching the other man's challenge at Spike's words. "Play nice."

"Always 'ave, pet," he replied without taking his eyes off the other man. Buffy sighed, knowing that if she didn't do something soon, things would get out of hand. She stood from her seat on the recliner and was thankful when Spike's gaze fell to her as she blocked his view of CJ. 

"Look, we don't have time for this," she said and though everyone heard her words, only Spike saw the pleading gloss of her eyes. The anger on his face dissipated and he gave her a lopsided smile before nodding. 

Surprised that he had capitulated so quickly, Buffy kissed him chastely on the lips. She pulled away quickly, sensing the ignition of desire flame between them at the simple gesture. She sat on the floor and leaned against the recliner between Spike's legs. As tense as the room was, with aggression and concern, simply touching Spike made everything else fall into place. 

"So, CJ. How are you feeling?" 

The black man shrugged. "Like I've been hit by a truck; twice. And then thrown off a roof before being bulldozed three more times and then set on fire." 

"Wicked imagery," Faith said from her position against the fireplace. 

"It's the truth though," he said. "I can't even breathe without feeling like I'm about to pass out. I couldn't even tell ya how I got down the steps."

"You should have stayed in bed," Dawn said. No one missed the concern in her voice and Buffy pre-empted any snarky reply on the lips of her vampire lover by grabbing his hand and laying it on her shoulder. 

"To be honest, I think you're right," CJ conceded. "I don't even know how I'm gonna stand up again, much less walk up the stairs." 

"So, CJ," Spike said and Buffy caught the patronizing tone of voice, "we're all glad that you're all right. And I, for one am impressed by the stones you showed last night. But, curiosity has the best of me and I just can't help but wonder what you were doing in the cemetery so late at night. And with quite the nasty weaponry on you, I might add." 

The younger man shrugged but couldn't hide his discomfort at the question. "Heard some bad things about this town. Better to be safe than sorry, right?" 

"Still--that was quite a sophisticated sheathe you had strapped to your arm. Looked a little more like the 'searching for trouble' variety if you ask me." 

"Well, glad I didn't ask, huh?" 

"You a mite bit talkative, son." 

"I'm not your son…" 

"And you were right about this town," Spike said and leaned forward over Buffy's head, "there are bad things here. Everywhere you go. Sometimes in places where you least expect them."

"Expect the unexpected is my motto." 

"Hmmm. For a minute there, I thought that it was 'I like to bite off more than I can chew', what with me havin' to save your arse last night." 

"Boys, boys, boys," Faith interjected. "Can we put the pissing contest on hold for awhile. Maybe you can wait till Angel gets here, make things more interesting." She pushed off the wall and stalked towards the middle of the room. "Pardon my language, but get the fuck over it. Whatever's up your asses. We've got better things to worry about than you two comparing cock sizes." 

"Faith's right," Buffy said and stood alongside her sister slayer. She didn't bother to hide her colored cheeks from the thoughts that Faith's words had invoked. She was glad that she wasn't the only one blushing, considering that all the women's cheeks were flaming red and CJ lowered his head bashfully. 

"We cant keep fighting each other and getting in contests of…measuring." She turned to the man on the couch. "CJ, you said that no one has ever faced anything like what you guys saw. How do you know that?" 

"I…I don't know. It's--it was just a feeling I had when I saw it fighting… Xander? I knew I couldn't make it in time so I called out the first thing that came to mind." 

"And what was that?" 

"Algolagniar." 

"Is that a liquor?" 

"Uh, that would be a negative, B," Faith said and turned to CJ. "Algolagniar. That sounds familiar. Like it's a…" 

"Lover of Pain," Willow interrupted. "Algolagnia is Greek for 'love of pain'. It's a common term used in S & M circles." The red head paled when all eyes turned to her. "Or so I've heard." 

"Okay, then," Spike said and smirked at Willow. "Guess Red is bold and daring after all." He chuckled when her cheeks flamed an even darker shade of red than her hair. "But that's beside the point. Still not getting why Morpheus here would say that." 

"He's right," Buffy said. "Why did you say that?" 

"Like I said, it was the first thing that came to mind. Can't really argue about it; it worked." 

"What do you mean?" Jay asked. 

"I was heading home through the cemetery when I heard the fighting…damn it!" 

"What?" Dawn asked as she tenderly stroked his arm. 

"I've been gone all night. My aunt's gonna be worried sick." 

"It's okay," Jay said and fixed him with a pointed look, "I called her earlier this morning, took your number off the caller ID. Told her you were okay, just staying with a friend." Buffy caught the accusing eyes of her daughter sparkle at the young man though Jay remained silent. Yet another silent conversation she had to discern later. 

"Thanks," CJ mumbled. "Anyway, when I got to the fight, I saw the demon about to end it all for Xander. I knew I couldn't get there in time so I called out its name. It stopped and gave me a chance to save Xander."

"Its name? Are you sure that was its name?" Tara asked. 

"The Good Witch is right," Faith said. "CJ here just could be a closet S & M fan and that was his new vocabulary word for the day before taking the whips & chains 101 exam. It doesn't mean that it was anything significant." 

Buffy rolled her eyes at the other slayer. "Faith's right…" 

"Wow, B. That's twice in ten minutes you've said that." 

"What CJ said may have been insignificant," Buffy said, ignoring the slayer's comment, "I mean, if you said that to me, I guess it would have been a distraction." 

"Yeah but…" CJ conceded and hesitated for several seconds. When he glanced up into hazel eyes, he shivered at a memory that had flashed through his mind too quick to make out. Shaking it off, he inhaled and lowered his head into his hands. 

"But what?" Spike asked. 

"But…" he looked up and stared into ice blue eyes. "But he recognized me. Said I was…" 

"Said you were what?" Dawn asked. 

"That it couldn't be. That I was dead." 

"That doesn't mean anything," Dawn reassured him. "You may just remind him of someone he killed." 

"But that's not all, is it?" Spike asked and he stared at the young man, his blue eyes unsympathetic at the truth they really saw. 

"No," CJ whispered, "it's not." 

"You holding out on us, Denzel?" Faith asked. 

"No, it's just that…" 

"Just that what?" Buffy demanded. 

CJ shook his head; not caring about the pain that stabbed his nerves at the slight movement. Last night, when he had called the creature's name--and he knew that Algolagniar was it--he hadn't had much of an opportunity to think about the familiarity he had had fighting the creature. But he had laid in bed for the last two hours, listening to the bustling activities downstairs, his mind filled with dreams of blood and death that where meted out by his hands. It had frightened him more than anything ever had and if he told them that…it he told the truth, he wouldn't be able to dismiss them as only dreams. But lying could put Dawn in harm's way and that was something he would not do. 

"It's just that…" he stopped when Dawn's hand covered his. The pain was still fresh but he didn't care, thankful for the strength she lent to him and when she smiled at him, he could have sworn that the pain had lessened. Filled with a new resolve, CJ gave substance to the thoughts that had plagued him all morning. 

"It's just that I recognized him--it--, too." 

Before anyone could question him, the front door flew open and Giles stumbled into the living room, his arms filled with several books. When he saw everyone in the room, he dropped the books to the floor, oblivious to the several surprised glances that greeted him. He removed his glasses and buffed the lenses with a handkerchief before he placed them back on his face. 

"I am afraid," he said, his voice as calm as Buffy had ever heard it though his eyes were wide in apprehension, "that we may very well have an apocalypse on our hands." 

TBC…

__

Things are really about to heat up now…


	18. Solitude

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 17

__

Solitude

****

May 19th, 2002

The transition from darkness to light was an arduous journey, filtered with several false starts, his body's discomfort luring him back into the peaceful depths of unconsciousness, where time and feeling had no meaning. He had no doubt that the peace was fleeting and that he would soon have to leave it behind. He had a job to do, friends to help and no way was he going to be caught sleeping on the job—figuratively, and literally, speaking. 

The atrocious pun was enough to jar him the rest of the way awake. At first, everything was fine. His body was somewhere down there but his attention was on the intricately carved patterns of, well, the nothing that lined the ceiling. Okay, Xander, quite stalling, he thought and sat up in bed, now well aware of his vigorously protesting muscles. The pain that shot up his spine was terrific and it reminded him of the agony that had ripped through him when he had been infused with the Elwvenian spirit. That pain had been welcomed, as it blocked out the grief of Anya's death.

Xander closed his eyes, biting back the tears that routinely formed at the thought of his dead fiancée. He hadn't spilled a tear since that night in the Bronze when he held her lifeless body in his arms for the last time. He...

He cursed at his traitorous thoughts, not wanting to travel down that path and instead focused his mind on its initial topic of interest. Like the ex-rogue slayer that had kissed him last night. 

Oh, he had no doubts that it was Faith that had touched her lips to his as he wavered between states of consciousness. He could still taste the peach tang of her lips and his thoughts traveled back to a time when it had just been him and her in her motel room. The way she felt, the way she moved…

Okay, Xan-man, no more thoughts about the homicidal ex-slayer, he thought. That road only led to bad and worse. Still, it was hard to ignore the plaintive whispers that had resonated from her last night. Even being half-conscious, Xander was well aware that the kiss she had bestowed upon him was a desperate plea for forgiveness. 

He shivered at the thought and ran a hand through his unruly hair. It wasn't that he held a grudge against her because, you know—well, actually that wasn't true. It was kinda difficult to forget the last time he had been alone with her, coming to her motel room to act the hero. He had only ended up almost getting himself raped (though he would have capitulated willingly to her sexual demands any other time) and killed and it had been one of the few times he was thankful for Soul Boy's help. 

"Can't think about that now," he said to the empty room and focused himself on getting up. He swung his feet off the bed, praising the stars for accelerated healing. Although he still felt as if a mobile home had been hurled atop of him, the agonizing firing of his nerve endings had died down to dull shock. 

"Gotta love those aspects of demons," he said, and stood. His leg muscles vehemently objected to his brain's twisted logic and Xander fell back onto the bed. "Just what I meant to do." He repeated the action and stayed on his feet a bit longer before plopping back down onto the mattress. Frustrated, he flung his head back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. He ignored the tangible desire to be out of this bed but it would take a few minutes. As part of him focused on reintegrating his muscles into working order, the conscious part of his mind meandered back to the presence of the rogue slayer that had kissed him just a few hours ago. 

As much as his faith in the justice system was, well, faithless, he doubted that an admitted murderer would be set free no matter the good behavior and license plates she banged out as penance. With that possibility squashed, he turned to the other two possible explanations. Either 1) the Council had seen to her early release because of some impending apocalypse, which wasn't good or 2) she had broken out of jail due to her own motives, which, quite coincidentally, was not of the good, either. Couple the fact that she had been in Buffy's house, most likely with the slayer's knowledge, Xander could only assume for Buffy to accept Faith into the folds things were not heading in the direction of peachy.

The thought of another impending disaster on its way to good old Sunny D and his mentor's words blessed Xander with the energy he had been seeking. Without hesitation, he rose to his feet, swaying slightly before regaining his balance. The pain had lessened even more and when he took his first step, his muscles only trembled slightly. Xander reached the door and, as his hand clasped the knob, his eyes fell to his attire, which consisted of his boxers and a tank top. 

"I don't think they'd appreciate the half-naked Xander tumbling down the steps," he said, and cracked a smile for the first time since stepping foot in Sunnydale. He searched the room and found his clothes neatly folded on the chair near the closest. He slid into the black pants and slipped his arms into the matching shirt, not bothering to button it. Putting on his boots was a bit more on the difficult side and he winced through the entire exercise. He saw that someone had left his weapons here and he instinctively reached for them, and quickly dropped his hand. As much as he wanted to carry them, they weren't necessary. He was in Casa de Summers, after all; what could possibly go wrong here? 

"Famous last words," he said, and hobbled to the door as the boots rubbed against his sensitive feet. He turned the knob slowly and slipped through the door. He crept through the hallway and to the steps. Although he knew stealth wasn't needed, a part of Xander wanted to get a feel for things before introducing himself to the public. Moreover, what better way to do that than to play a bit of 'I Spy'? 

_Of course, seriously doubting the stealthage at this particular moment in time, _he thought ruefully. He sighed at the indecision that coursed through his bones and, for a brief moment, he was the inadequate Xander of old; no super powers, no special skills; just the ability to crack a joke or get in a predicament to be rescued from. He shook his head, banishing those insecurities and that life that had been buried when Anya had been laid to rest. 

The slam of a door caught his attention and, ignoring subtlety, Xander walked halfway down the steps when another thump sounded, this time from the living room. 

"I am afraid," he heard Giles say, "that we may very well have an apocalypse on our hands." 

Xander lowered his head and chuckled. What could possibly go wrong, you say? 

Unfortunately, the Watcher had just answered his question. 

~~~~~

Angel heard Cordelia before she even opened the door. She didn't knock and Angel didn't mind, especially since he had left it unlocked just for this reason. His back was to her and he debated whether to acknowledge her presence or feign sleep. Opting for the latter, he buried his head further into the pillow, ignoring her silent footfalls and then the slight creak of the bed as she laid down on the edge. Tension radiated from her and for good reason. Despite giving Buffy his blessing only minutes before last night, after seeing the way his ex had looked and cared for Spike, Angel had withdrawn from everyone. That had included Cordelia, whom he had ignored during the subsequent drive to the motel. 

There was no getting around it; he behaved like an ass. _And this cowardly act, not really me. _He had seen the hurt in her eyes when she suggested they get a double and his subsequent dismissal. He had only told her it wasn't a good idea before walking off to commandeer two rooms. He had quickly barricaded himself in the room, disregarding her knocking about an hour after he had settled in. She left but not before imparting some colorful advice to him. The distinct slam of her own door echoed through the walls and Angel cursed himself for being so callous and broody. Not too long after that, the vampire had unlocked his door on the off chance that she would revisit him later, his attitude notwithstanding. 

Cordelia sighed and Angel stiffened. What was it about her that had him so skittish? He loved working with her and they got along fine but when it came to personal time, words failed him. Like now, when he knew that an apology was in order, he couldn't get himself to turn over and face her. 

_You're the champion of the Powers and you can't even face your friend to say 'I'm sorry'? What is wrong with you? _

So lost in his thoughts, Angel didn't sense the brunette closing the distance between them until her arm was draped across his stomach and her warmth pooled against his back. 

"So," she said brightly, "are we still in our 'pissed-off-vampire-with-a-soul' broody mood?" 

Angel chuckled and twisted his body enough to catch a glimpse of her face. From his position, her eyes sparkled with mirth and for a minute, he could forget the pain that had been in them last night after his rejection and the fear that had greeted him right after her vision. He wanted to remember her like this, as he had no doubt that the coming months would be sparse in levity. 

"Yeah," he responded after several minutes, "the brooding has taken a back seat to the ever present 'feeling like a fool' syndrome." 

"Well, good, cause after last night, you should feel like one." He tensed at her words and Cordelia tightened her grip. Angel forced himself to relax, something that was difficult considering the slight arousal he had noticed wafting from Cordy as her breasts crushed tightly against his back. It had the same effect on him as well, his excitement pressing uncomfortably against the denim of his jeans. _Think bad thoughts, think bad thoughts, _he coached himself; the last thing he wanted was for her to discover his…situation. 

_Spike…Buffy and Spike…Buffy and Spike naked…Buffy and Spike naked, having sex…_

As much as the thought of the two blondes having sex pissed him off, the image of their beautiful bodies moving rhythmically as one only intensified the burn in his lower abdomen. To top it off, Cordy's hand was moving dangerously close to the redline as her fingers idly thrummed past his waistline. 

"Cordy…I, uh, I wanted to apologize for last night." It took the self-discipline he had acquired in being around Buffy without having her that kept his voice respectably steady. Still, the urge to turn over and ravage the seer refused to diminish. 

Cordelia kissed him on the back of the neck and pressed her cheek firmly against the newly baptized skin. "It's okay," she said, and he felt her lips curl into a smile but just as quickly as it appeared, the smile was gone. "I know it was hard--seeing Buffy with Spike." 

"It was," he said.

"Wanna talk about it?" 

Angel immediately opened his mouth, ready to deny Cordelia's request but he knew she would be hurt even more at him closing up even more. He had kept nothing from her the past few years and if he did so now, it would only make things strained between them. Aside from that, he needed to share it with someone else. 

"When we were outside," he began, "we talked about it. About what happened between her and Spike. After that initial shock of seeing them together at the door--smelling what they were doing before they opened it--it hadn't hurt as much as I thought it would."

"Doesn't mean it still didn't hurt." 

"Touché."

The hand that wasn't resting against his stomach stroked his head. He leaned into her embrace as her fingers danced through the waves of his dark hair. Her other hand traced concentric circles around his navel and the tension in Angel's muscles systematically evaporated. 

"So what did you two ex-love birds talk about?" Though her tone was line, Angel caught the underlying apprehension in her words. Without thinking, his right hand found hers and, taking advantage of her surprise, he intertwined his fingers with hers in an attempt to lend her support. 

"Well, my original plan was to give her a list of reasons why Spike wasn't good for her but…" 

"But what?" 

"But talking to her, about how he was there for her after she came back and knowing what I know about him…" Angel trailed off again, the words stuck in his throat. 

"Angel," Cordelia murmured and cradled his head in the crook of her elbow, forcing him to look at her. "What is it?" 

"As much as I hate Spike, I can't help but think that he's the better man."

She frowned at his admission and Angel sighed. She wouldn't understand it, even if he tried to explain, so why try? He had once told Buffy that it was the man, not the demon in him that needed to die. If a soulless vampire could love Buffy more than Angel--love her enough to go against his nature, then what could Angel have ever provided?

"You know," Cordelia whispered, her lips noticeably closer to his face, "you may be right. Spike may be the better man--" The lingering stab of pain that had started in his gut two days ago intensified and his mouth went dry. If it had been someone else that had agreed, Angel wouldn't have minded much--but Cordy saying it was like a stake to the…

Angel turned over and Cordelia yelped in surprise. His face was torn through the middle with a scowl and his hands held her shoulders steadfast. "What did you just say?" he asked, not believing what he'd just heard. For a moment, he was sure Cordy had said…" 

"I said that you may be right and that Spike may be the better man. For Buffy." His shoulders slouched at her reiteration, disappointed at what his ears had hoped for her to say. His eyes fluttered closed but they shot open when he felt the softest of kisses grace his lips. He drank in the site of her, his sense going haywire at the amorous scent of her arousal wafting through the air. Her heartbeat, fast and strong, exploded in his ears and the dilation of her pupils confirmed what his other senses were screaming. 

"But," she said, interrupting his thoughts, "you are the better man for me." Angel's eyes widened and the seer chuckled, running a single finger down the side of his face. "You are beautiful, you know that?" 

The soft-spoken admiration was enough to jar him back into reality. His lips curled in a smirk and he trailed two fingers down her cheek. "That must be your reflection you're seeing, then." He stifled a chuckle when she rolled her eyes, a direct contrast to the flush that singed her cheeks. 

"Oh, shut up, Romeo and kiss me." She didn't wait for his response and, instead, attacked his mouth with a ferocity that startled the vampire. Her tongue invaded his mouth and it was all Angel could do to keep up. His hands slid up and down her body and, for the first time he realized she was wearing a silk nightie. A very thin, very short, silk nightie at that. He couldn't help but think that she had done it for him but squashed the idea immediately. It was Cordy, after all, she of the keen fashion sense and…oh God, did her hand just slide down there? 

Angel growled when Cordy's hand sneaked past the defenses of his jeans and grasped his manhood with surprising strength. They never broke the kiss and her boldness gave him confidence. Without a second thought, the brunette vampire's fingers skimmed the inner part of her thigh and, pushing the thin material of her panties to the side, entered her throbbing center. 

"Angel," she cried at the penetration and clutched him tighter. He murmured her name as his tongue trailed a path down her neck. He nibbled at her jugular with blunt teeth and Cordy moaned her satisfaction, her delicate hand stroking him even more urgently. It was taking every ounce of self-control for him not to rip her clothes away and plunge his aching cock deep into her. However, he couldn't risk it, although the reasons for that were quite hazy at this particular moment--especially considering the bliss that threatened to engulf him at having this beautiful woman in his bed and the lewd suggestions and pleas that climbed out of her throat.

Bliss…

Realization slammed into the soulled vampire and Angel immediately withdrew himself from her. He saw the confusion in her eyes, having him by her side one moment and in the blink of an eye, he was halfway across the room. 

"Angel?" Her voice was husky with desire and when she tried to sit up her limbs trembled with unfulfilled desire. 

"We--can't Cordy," Angel whispered, his voice shaky with emotion. "You know we can't. The curse…" She furrowed her brow but he saw the instant that she realized what had nearly occurred. 

"Oh my God, Angel, I am so sorry." Tears tore through the need written in her eyes and the salty liquid poured down her cheeks. Angel didn't hesitate, rushing to her side.

"Shhh," he said, and pulled her close to his chest, "it's not your fault." 

"But it is…I didn't even think about it, all I wanted was you and if you hadn't stopped it, we--" She trailed off and just as lighting was the parent of thunder, her tears gave birth loud, gasping sobs. 

Angel said nothing, not trusting his ability to offer words of comfort. Instead, he relied on the strength of his arms to keep her from drowning in her own sorrow. He understood where she was coming from, the part of one's self where, despite the possible consequences of an action, one didn't care as long as the need for the action was fulfilled. It had been like that for Angel his last year in Sunnydale. He knew that one night of passion with Buffy would unleash Angelus yet part of him couldn't have given a fuck. To have the love of his life so close and not be able to join with her had been a greater torture than his time in Hell. It wasn't the sex that brought him to that moment of happiness but letting down of his guard for one moment. It was something that, surprisingly hadn't happened when he held Connor and Angel knew the reason. There was not a single time that he glanced at his son that he didn't wonder what the PTB's would do to take Connor away. It had been ironic that, despite that fear, he had started to relax more around the infant, take Connor's birth for what it was; a miracle. It wasn't until Holtz had fled to Quortoth that the vampire had realized just how close he had been towards meeting that happiness clause. Still…

He turned his attention back towards the sniffling woman in his arms. Her sobs had slackened to nothing although her tears continued to soak his shirt. One of his hands that were stroking her back moved to her face and he lifted her chin. He stared into the eyes of his best friend, a woman that was as tough as anyone he had ever met. She had fought against the forces of evil for six years without the advent of supernatural powers, facing danger without so much as a second thought. Rarely had he ever seen her so distraught and it unnerved him. She must have saw it in his eyes because, in the next instant Cordelia graced him with a brilliant smile. 

"My make-up must be ruined," she said, and Angel shook his head in amusement. He leaned his forehead against hers and inhaled. Her scent was a mixture of sunshine and roses, an elegant cliché, but true all the same. The simple thought of her fragrance revitalized his member and he maneuvered away slightly in order to put distance between their lower bodies. 

"What? Joe Cool doesn't trust himself?" she teased, and Angel smiled. 

"With you? Not a chance." Her smile vanished at his confession and Angel pulled away enough to take in her features. He wiped the drying tears away with his thumb and, after that was accomplished, tipped her chin upwards and caught her lower lip between his. It was a brief kiss, chaste yet salacious, a promise of things to come. When their lips disengaged, Cordelia sighed. 

"You know," she said, her eyes fixed on his chest, "I don't know what I'm more ashamed of. Getting possessed by the hormone brigade or…" 

"Or what?" 

"Or hoping that if we did get busy with it that it would be enough to awaken Angelus." The last part was said as a whisper but Angel heard it clearly enough. As bad as it may have sounded, he understood where she was coming from. After all, what would that say about his love for her if she couldn't offer him that singular moment of happiness? 

_Did I just say love? _the vampire thought incredulously. Was it possible that that was the reason it hadn't hurt quite as badly between he and Buffy this time? Angel ran over the events from the past several months--every time something happened, his first thought was to tell Cordelia. She was always there for him, as a friend, but there was something far more reaching in their relationship. When she had been seeing Groo a few months ago, it had hurt him so badly but he had never said a word. And, despite feeling bad when Groo had left not long after Connor was born, Angel couldn't deny the relief that the other man had gone. He had felt guilty about that for quite sometime but Connor's apprehension had wiped all thoughts of that particular guilt away. 

_Quit being the soddin' poof that you always are, _he heard a familiar voice whisper in his mind, _and admit it; you love her. _He repressed the sound of Spike's voice in his head but not the words spoken. It was something that Spike would say, being that his talent, aside from annoying the hell out of Angel, was seeing the truth behind any façade. He had done it with Angel and Buffy and, although he wasn't here now, part of Spike's insight had clearly rubbed off. 

The epiphany was like an explosion in his brain. All doubts and reservations were obliterated and, although a part of him would always love Buffy, she no longer held his heart. That honor went to this extraordinary woman in his arms. 

Angel kissed Cordelia once more, holding back a smile at her surprised gasp. When he pulled back, her eyes blackened with desire but understanding as well. He lay back against the pillow and pulled her close. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder and her hand idly traveled up and down his torso. 

As much as he wanted to declare his feelings for her, something held him back, whispering that now wasn't the time. He reluctantly agreed although he gave thought to her confession about wanting their consummation to be that perfect moment of happiness. Angel smiled. It may have been too early to declare his love for her but he could give her something…

"I have no doubt that he would, Cordy. I have no doubt that he would." She didn't reply but did snuggle a bit closer towards him. Soon, all that was heard in the room was Cordelia's even breathing, a sound that lulled Angel into the welcome depths of slumber. As he finally drifted off, Angel reminded himself not to get too happy; it wouldn't pay losing his soul by simply holding the woman he loved in his arms. 

No matter how perfect it felt. 


	19. That Other Pesky Shoe

Severed Ties 

****

Chapter 18

__

That Other Pesky Shoe

All eyes were trained on the Watcher as he scrubbed his glasses. It wasn't that they were surprised in the least—except for maybe Dawn's friend—rather, the announcement was so typical, expected even, that they really couldn't muster a single remark from their collective repertoire of witty Scoobie-isms that were remotely original and unique. That was Sunnydale, all right, stay here awhile and the apocalypse became just another weekly event, along with manicures, guy talk, and Tuesday night shows at eight. 

"Leave it to Rupie here to disturb the peace," Spike said, and threw a leg across the arm of the chair. 

"I apologize, Spike," the Watcher said, "if my ill tidings are hampering your laying about." 

"Please ignore my undead boyfriend," Buffy said and cast an annoyed glance over her shoulder, only to have it stripped at the vision of joy etched across the vampire's face. She quickly turned to her mentor, hoping he ignored the flaming rose tint of her cheeks. Thankfully, he did. "So, is it bad?" 

"No," he said, and bent over to pick up the books at his feet, "it's just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, doom-filled apocalypse." 

"Well, well, well," Faith said, "Watcher man is all one with the sarcasm." 

"Giles can be fun sometimes," Willow said. 

"Guess I have been away," Faith said. 

"Okay," Buffy said, and helped the bespectacled man gather the books, "so it's another apocalypse. Like you said, it's not like we haven't faced one before. Right?" 

"Uh, question," CJ said, "when you guys mean 'apocalypse', are you talking about the whole end-of-the-world-Revelations type thing? Cause, if you are, raising my hand here; haven't experienced an apocalypse." 

"Well, then I suggest you get used to it, and fast," a voice suggested from another room. Buffy turned towards the foyer and, glancing over Giles's shoulder, saw Xander limping into the room. 

"Xander," she said, and ran over to him, embracing the former construction worker. She buried her face in his chest and sighed when he stroked her hair. 

"As much as I'm liking this reunion, Buff, still very sore here." 

"Oh sorry," she said, and pulled away from him. Her eyes scanned her friend's bruised form, noting that the severity of his injuries had decreased significantly during the night. She frowned before remembering that Willow had kept watch over him. _Maybe she and Tara did some recovery magick on him, _the slayer rationalized. 

"You know you shouldn't be up, don't you?" Willow chastised from her seat next to Tara and Dawn. Despite her serious tone, Buffy heard the relief the Wicca carried. 

"Well, you know me," Xander said. "Guy: therefore I must ignore all advice that concerns my well being." 

"So how are you feeling?" Tara asked. 

It was Xander's turn to shrug. "Other than the Acme Piano dropped from the sky onto my head, fit as a fiddle with, well, several broken strings." 

"And still you braved the Great Downstairs to be with us, eh, lover?" Faith said. Buffy turned to her sister slayer and although the bravado that made her Faith was there, the blonde caught a flash of something in the other woman's eyes that looked suspiciously like—

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Xander smiled and glanced over everyone in the room, his eyes resting on Jay's tense features a fraction longer than the rest. Buffy frowned, but said nothing, deciding that it was probably just her imagination. 

"Excuse me, people," CJ said, and Buffy bit back a laugh when she saw the utter confusion in his eyes, "but could you explain to me this whole thing about an apocalypse. Still kinda foggy about it." 

"That's okay," Dawn said, and to everyone's surprise, kissed him on the cheek, "we've got all day to fill you in." 

All afternoon was bloody well right, Spike thought. It had taken the Watcher nearly two hours to gather his materials and situate himself at the kitchen table where Dawn, CJ, Willow, Tara and Xander also sat. Faith lounged in the corner, arms folded and Jay stood sentry against the back door, her posture strikingly similar to the brunette slayer. 

Spike sat on the island, his legs dangling off the edge and Buffy positioned between his legs, resting against him and the counter; her hands caressed his arms that encircled her waist. 

"So, Rupes," Spike said, "are we gonna get this show on the road any time soon?"

Giles rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Buffy. "Are you sure we should not wait for Angel and Cordelia to arrive? We have a great deal to cover and I'd rather not recite this information twice." 

"It's cool, Giles," Buffy said, "I'm sure that one of use will happily fill Angel and Cordelia in on the prophecies, portents and thingamabobbies you're gonna tell us about." 

"I got your 'thingamabobbie' right here, luv," Spike whispered in Buffy's ear. 

"Parental units," Jay pled, "if we could please refrain from giving your only child disturbing images of your desires to copulate." 

"Yeah, B," Faith said, and winked at the blonde duo, "it's not nice to flaunt you and Studly's nightly activities here in front of us folks who aren't getting any." 

"Guys," Buffy said, and glared at her daughter then Faith, though her cheeks flamed red, "could we please concentrate on what Giles has to say?"

"So, Rupes," the vampire said, "the floor's yours." 

"I appreciate your generosity," the watcher deadpanned. "Now, if we may begin. 

"Generally speaking, prophecies are an extremely dicey field. Very few are specific towards the details; usually spouting off in some sort of metaphoric nonsense that is deciphered after the event has occurred. In that respect, we have been lucky. On several occasions, Buffy's own prophetic dreams have clarified the particulars of several potentially apocalyptic events. Other times, it has been by sheer stroke of luck that we have prevented such end of the world situations. In fact…" 

"Giles," Buffy said, "you're babbling." 

"She's right," Willow said, and gave the Watcher a sympathetic smile. "You're almost as bad as me and Buffy were in high school." 

"Sorry, Wills, but you and the Buffster are peerless when it comes to the mindless drivel," Xander said. 

"Somebody's feeling better," Buffy replied, and rolled her eyes. 

"Unfortunately," Spike muttered, and was rewarded with an elbow to the stomach. "Oy, luv, watch it." 

"Then don't talk about my friend like that." Spike scowled at the former carpenter who smiled in triumph.

"Are you three quite finished?" Giles asked, and removed his glasses. Xander and Buffy lowered their eyes at the older man's fiery gaze but Spike returned it with a cold glare of his own. 

"Maybe they would, _Watcher, _if you get to the bloody point and quit trying to sound like a soddin' Encyclopedia Britannica. We don't need the bloody history of prophecies or their cryptic nature. Just spill the goods, so we can fight this thing and be on our merry little ways." 

Pale silence filtered through the room, two pairs of blue eyes locked, engaged in a battle of the wills. Spike knew it was pointless, yet his pride, as always, kicked in at the most inopportune times and he was helpless against his own bravado. From the look of things, Giles was the same way. Of course, the Watcher didn't have the warm arms of a slayer stroking his arm to curb said pride. 

_Minx does it ev'ry time, _Spike thought and reluctantly lowered his gaze to the back of Buffy's head. He kissed her hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent. She sighed and squeezed his hand before nodding for Giles to continue. 

"Yes, as I was saying. This particular prophecy I found is quite detailed, though I must say some of what I found would never have made sense were it not for Faith's--_Jay's _warnings from the future." 

"Speaking of which," Xander said, "do you think this apocalypse has to do with Jay's arrival here?" Xander glanced at the aforementioned party in a way that Spike didn't like in the least. 

"It is entirely possible. I must say that dealing with temporal mechanics and the ensuing repercussions are not my strong suit." 

"Excuse me," CJ said, "what do you mean temporal mechanics? Isn't that like Star Trek talk for time warps and that crap?" 

"Something like that," Dawn said. 

"Wait, 'something like that', or that?" 

"Well, CJ…" Dawn started but was interrupted by Jay. 

"What it means is that I'm not from this time." CJ blinked and Spike chuckled at the boy's furrowed brow. He had a fleeting thought that the boy reminded him of someone but it passed as CJ spoke. 

"As in, you're from the future?" 

"Yeah." 

"I see." He stared at his hands for several seconds before turning towards Giles. "Please, don't let my unparalleled befuddlement draw halt to the proceedings." 

"Yes, well, as I was saying Xander, it is quite possible and, given the circumstances surrounding this particular prophecy, probable, that Fa--Jay's arrival is the precipitating factor in it coming to fruition." 

"But at the same time," Faith said, "Jay's arrival could have been part of the big bad plan from the jump, am I right?" 

"Except that things turned out differently forty years from now than they did then," Xander said, his voice almost hollow. 

"Still," Faith countered, and walked over to the table, "that doesn't disqualify the chance that Baby Jay was supposed to come back _to _change things." 

"That's true," Tara said, speaking for the first time, "Dawnie--I mean Emerald did send Jay back for a specific purpose." 

"A purpose that she was extremely vague on," Xander muttered. 

"Maybe because she couldn't risk changing it by any other means than by Jay figuring things out," Will suggested. "I mean, yeah, everything was snuckered up by Jay coming here and you would think what's the big if Emerald did tell her what to do, when, in reality, Jay knowing the truth could have bungled things up even more." 

"Willow is correct, Xander," Giles said. "The whole point of Emerald sending Jay back in time may have been to thwart whatever is to come." 

"And I guess killing Anya was a part of what's to come, huh?" 

Xander's words tore the air out of the room. Everyone averted Xander's gaze and Spike's attention immediately fell to Jay. At the mention of Anya's name, she had retreated within herself, blanking out all emotions although he had seen the sorrow and guilt clearly before he had pulled the mask on. He tried to reach out to her as he had moments before but she didn't acknowledge it. 

"Xander," Buffy said, "that wasn't Jay's fault, you know that." 

"No, I know she didn't kill Anya, and I know she didn't have anything against her. That bastard Seth and those demons killed her. But why was Seth her in the first place?" His eyes fell on the emotionless face of Jay. "To bring her back." 

"Xander, stop it, now," Tara's voice, confident and angry, cut through the oppressive atmosphere. "You have no idea what happened to Jay there, no idea whatsoever. The things she…" Tears welled in Tara's gentle eyes and her voice hitched. It was only through Willow's loving caresses that she found the strength to continue. "It wasn't her fault." 

"I know," Xander said, and stood, "I know." He walked out of the kitchen and they listened as his footfalls against the steps subsided. 

"I should go see about him…" Willow said and started to rise but Faith beat her to it. 

"Stay here, Witchiepoo, I got it." 

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Buffy said. She pushed away from Spike and he nearly groaned at the loss, but hopped off the island and took his position to Buffy's right, her devoted sentinel. 

"Relax, B. Me and Xander, we, well…" 

"Have a history, we know," Willow said, and couldn't quite mask her bitterness. 

"Well, maybe she can help him," Dawn said. They all looked at her and she shrunk into her chair. "I'm just saying, you guys know Xander too well. Maybe what he needs is someone who's not as scared about hurting his feelings."

"Thanks, brat," Faith said. "I'm sure if I dig a little, I could find a compliment somewhere in there." 

"I didn't…" 

"Five by Five, Dawn. I know what you meant and you're right." Faith turned to the others. "Look, Xander tried to help me when I was flippin' outta control and I tried to…I owe him, just as much as I owe B. Let me do this." 

Spike felt Buffy's eyes peering into the other slayer, attempting to detect the truth in Faith's words. He knew Buffy was hesitant to trust Faith after their sorted history. Still, he knew Buffy and what her decision would be.

"Go. We'll fill you in when we brief Angel and Cordy." 

"Thanks, B," Faith said and trotted out of the room. 

"You okay, Bitlet?" Spike asked Jay. She offered him a weak smile but said nothing. 

"What just happened here?" CJ asked, his tone indicating his growing bafflement. 

"Dawn'll explain later," Buffy said. "Giles, can we finish this up?" Spike ran his hands along Buffy's shoulders, trying to push away the tension that bled from her pores. She sighed and leaned into him, her petite form adhering to the indentations of his own body. His hands slid down to her waist and snaked to the front. She rested her hands on his and cocked her head to the side, exposing the golden flesh of her throat. It was something she did often and without provocation and Spike couldn't help but feel overjoyed at the trust she displayed with the simple gesture. 

"Yes," Giles said, breaking the vampire's thoughts, "well, as we were saying, Jay's presence here may be the way things are supposed to be, especially since this prophecy does indeed include the Harbinger at the forefront." 

"Harbinger?" CJ asked. 

"His name is Gabriel," Jay said, "and he's coming." 

"How do you know?" 

"Because I've seen him, in my dreams." 

"Jay's a slayer, like my sister," Dawn supplied. "They have dreams about bad things coming. Part and parcel of the whole slayer gig." 

"So they're like, what, professional demon fighters?" 

"Yep," Buffy answered, "except the lack of getting paid for risking our lives on a nightly (and sometimes daily) basis, that is. Why is that, Giles?" 

"Buffy, focus, please," the watcher sighed. 

"Sorry. I just think we should get paid," she muttered. 

"Me, too, luv," Spike said. 

"Okay, back to my question," CJ said, "who is this Gabriel dude? And why does he want to end the world?"

"We're gonna have to tell him," Dawn said, "about everything." 

"What's everything?" 

"I agree," Giles said, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "CJ, you obviously know more than you let on about what's happening in this town, and I know that Dawn has explained something about us but I don't know how much." 

"Well, she really didn't tell me much. I mean, other than you guys fight the good fight and all that." 

"Sorry," Dawn said, "but I wasn't sure if you were gonna be staying to hear the rest." 

"It's cool, I understand. But if I am gonna stay, I want at least an idea about what's going on." 

"Fair enough," Spike said, "but on the flip side, you've gotta be straight with us, too." CJ opened his mouth to protest but closed it immediately. He gave Spike a cursory nod before turning back to Giles. 

"I will be as brief as possible, however, if you do have questions, Dawn can fill you in when Angel and Cordelia arrive." His gaze hardened and Spike saw the Ripper aura flaring just below the surface. "What we tell you now, CJ, is in great confidence. We are trusting Dawn's judgment on this, along with your actions from last night. Do not disappoint us." 

"I won't." 

"Good. Well, as you know, Buffy and Faith are slayers, as is Faith Joyce over there. Buffy and Joyce--Buffy and Jay are mother and daughter. Her father is Spike, whom, you may not have noticed, is a vampire." 

"I knew there was something about you," CJ said, half-teasingly. 

"By nature, vampires are evil and cannot produce offspring, but Spike has always been different. Evidently, he and Buffy having a child is a part of a prophecy that we are dealing with now. And this Harbinger, this Gabriel, is directly connected to Faith Joyce's conception and subsequent birth."

"And who is Emerald?" CJ asked. 

"Me," Dawn said.

"You? But I thought…" 

"She was in the future? That is correct," Giles said. "However, Dawn is not just your typical teenager." 

"Well, I could've told you that," CJ said, and gave Dawn an affectionate pat on the hand that made her blush. The growl that threatened to spill from Spike's chest was quelled by a firm squeeze of Buffy's hand. 

"Needless to say," Giles said, "Dawn becomes Emerald in the future, with the ability to open portals into time. She sent Jay here for a purpose, one that has to do with Gabriel." 

"I'm the only one that can defeat him," Jay said. 

"Why?" 

"Don't know, but it has something to do with me being born." She chuckled humorlessly and Spike noticed the unease in her eyes. "Guess we have that love connection going."

"So, Giles," Buffy said, and gave her daughter a reassuring smile, "when is this Gabriel supposed to be arriving with the apocalypse in tow?" 

"While I am unsure as to his arrival date, I do know that the apocalypse is," he hesitated and sifted through his papers, "_the day of His birth and death, the day in which the second miracle was brought into this world." _

"And what does that mean?" 

"September third," Jay said. "My birthday." 

"How do you know?" Willow asked. 

"I saw it, a few months ago. And before you ask, Giles, yes I am sure," she said amiably. 

"Okay, so we have a few months to prepare for the blighter, no harm, no foul, eh?" Spike said. 

"I'm afraid that's not quite accurate, Spike," Giles said. "I believe that demon you, Xander and CJ here fought last night is the first of many preordained vessels that will pave the way for the Harbinger's arrival." 

"What does that mean?" Buffy asked, and pulled away from Spike. Despite his desire to keep Buffy relaxed, the vampire couldn't suppress the tension that settled throughout his body. He didn't like the sound of this one bloody bit and, call it a lucky guess or experience, but he knew there was still a lot more to this tale. 

"The prophecy I found in the Br'allyn Tome states that the Harbinger arriving but not before those that symbolize what he is. 

"_And for Death--the Harbinger, shall await the sacrifice of his Body, cleansing it of pain and suffering. And the Body's sacrifice shall pave the way for the Vessels; Hand and Heart and Will. Together the three shall bring forth He that will end all." _

"Wow," Buffy said, and shook her head. "Does it say anything else, about these Vessels, or about this Harbinger?"

"Yes, it does, though I am not quite sure what to make of it." 

"Tell us," Buffy said, and Spike sensed her rising desperation. So she felt it, too. 

"It says that the Hand _is Destruction, Will cold and cruel, Heart revels in obliteration of love. _And as unlikely as it may seem, it is this Heart, not the Hand, that is the most dangerous of the three." 

"Why? And what's this about 'obliteration of love'?" Buffy asked, her voice strained. Giles lowered his eyes back to the text and skimmed until he came upon the passage to answer Buffy's question. 

"_Using not strength of body but splinters of doubt and mistrust, the Heart will tear and break the Improbable's pillars." _

"The Improbable?" 

"Yes, I assume they are referring to Faith Joyce, considering that in the prophecy she told us named her as the single entity that could arrest the Harbinger's machinations."

"Why?" Buffy nearly shouted. "What is so special about this damn Harbinger? What does he have that me and Spike can't fight? Why does Faith…why does our daughter have to do this?" Spike heard Buffy's words falling into panic and he grabbed her shoulders. He wasn't surprised to find her shaking, and he knew that her fear originated from something that had not been said--maybe not even known except by her. Although Spike's mind was laced with fear of losing his daughter, Buffy's fear was something born of certainty. And that terrified him. 

"Mum," Jay said, and walked over to her mother. She leaned her forehead against Buffy's and smiled genuinely for the first time since they had come into the kitchen. "I'll be all right. You and Daddy will be there to help me. Faith and Dawn will be there, so will Willow and Tara and Giles. I'm not going at it alone, 'kay?" 

The young woman's words soothed Buffy and the latter calmed noticeably. She hugged Jay tightly before breaking away and wiping her own half-formed tears away. "So what are these pillars of the Improbable? Does that mean me and Spike?"

"That was my initial assumption," Giles admitted. 

"But how is this Heart thing going to get us out of the way?" Buffy asked. 

"I truly do not know, but I can only assume that it plans to use whatever reservations that a slayer and vampire have for one another. Regardless of how much you two…love each other, you cannot discount that there is a great deal of discord in regards to your nature as mortal enemies. This _Heart _will most likely prey on that, as well as any doubts that you have in entering this--union."

"Doesn't matter what's in our nature, Rupes," Spike said. "We've been together in one way or the other for the better part o' five years, and we're both still walkin' around." Spike lowered his gaze to Buffy and entwined his fingers with hers. "Nothin's gonna get between us, not now, not for-bloody-ever." 

"Promise?" Buffy whispered. 

"Promise." Buffy smiled and brushed a kiss across his lips before returning her attention back to Giles. 

"Is there anything, anything at all on this Gabriel guy? Is he a vampire? Some other sort of demon…" 

"That's the thing that perplexed me," Giles said, and flipped through a few more pages before finding the proper section. "This passage reads:

_And for He, blood is the life, twisting and turning, mingling with the strength of Hell He was cast into…_

"That in itself makes me assume that he is a vampire, although there are other demons that feed on blood, albeit not exclusively as vampires do. And yet…" 

"What, Giles?" Buffy demanded. "You're holding something back." 

"I do not mean to, however, this particular passage further obfuscates the true identity of this Harbinger. 

__

"Two souls, that from void and that from the consummation of the Lifeless, torn into One, colder than that which is without…"

"Why can't prophecies ever be even semi-coherent?" Buffy asked to no one in particular, eliciting a tired smile from the Watcher. 

"Unfortunately, this is all that I have been able to ascertain in regards to the Harbinger--there is no more…" Giles stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes drawn to the figure standing near the back door. "Jay? What is it?" 

All eyes turned towards the slayer and Spike cringed at the terror that was in her eyes. He and Buffy rushed over to her and both instinctively kept their distance. 

"Bitlet?" Spike asked. "What is it?" 

"It's--the…what Giles said…about Gabriel." 

"What about him, sweetie?" Buffy asked. 

"I…I know what he is, who he is, but I didn't get it until now." 

"What do you mean?" Giles asked. 

"He's a vampire, but an incredible warlock. He was even more powerful than Auntie Willow at her strongest, where she's like a hundred times stronger than she is now."

"Okay, that doesn't sound too good," the redhead whispered. 

"But it's more than that," Buffy said, and she latched onto Spike's forearm painfully.

"I mean, I knew all along, even when I saw him here, but I thought it was something else entirely. It had to be…" 

"Jay," Buffy said and the panic in her voice made Spike want to wretch. Her nails dug into his flesh but he remained, even as the first scent of blood wafted to his nostrils. 

"The two souls thing made me see. I'm so sorry, Mum, I didn't tell you earlier but I know it couldn't have been him, not like he was when you told me…not even without the soul." 

"No…" Buffy whispered. 

"What's going on?" CJ asked. 

"Angel," Jay said. 

"What about the Poof?" 

"Him and Gabriel--they're one and the same." 

****

WHAT!!!! Oh boy, what in the hell is going on here? TBC in _The Smallest Cuts are the Deepest…_

Xander and Faith talk. Plus Angel and Cordelia finally arrive…

A/N: Notice the props I gave to one of my favorite writers, witchiepoo? Hehe. Those of you that I leave reviews for, be on the lookout, you may see your name in some of my fics, too. ;)


	20. A Lil Somethin' to Talk About

Severed Ties 

****

Chapter 19

__

A Little Somethin to Talk About

She found him in Willow and Tara's room, clad in only his jeans and boots, staring out the window at the fading light in the sky. She marveled at the changes in him. True, it had been well over two years since she had last seen him, even longer since she'd glanced the smooth skin that lie underneath his clothing, but Faith had no doubts that the muscles she traced with her eyes had been gained only through years of training. 

"Nice view," she said, and stopped just to the side of him. Xander cast a weary glance towards her before returning to the slowly setting sun. Faith studied his profile, noting how his once roundish face was now that of a chiseled warrior, complete with a tailored beard and minute scars that stood out in the faint glow of the pre-dusk sun. 

Faith leaned the right side of her body against the wall and folded her arms across her chest. Countless thoughts tumbled through her mind, begging to be heard but she remained mute. Instead, she took comfort in the other man's company; it gave her a calm she had not had in some time. In truth, the last time she had felt this relaxed had been the precious few seconds she and Xander had spent gazing into each other's eyes after their desires had been quenched. Although her attitude had been cavalier as she escorted him out, inside Faith was anything but. Her mind had screamed at her; one side desperately wanting to cling to the potential for something special that the twinkle in his brown eyes had hinted at while the other--the other was terrified of that, remembering Faith's less than impressive experiences with love and loyalty. The latter had won out but there hadn't been a day since that had passed without her wondering what it was she might have lost. 

"You know," Xander said, startling Faith from her thoughts, "Anya always bugged me about going out to the beach and watching the sun set. Every time she asked me I promised her that we would someday. And I meant it. But with us both working so much and the new big bad showing up at our doorsteps every week, we never got the chance to do that. And now we never will." 

Faith opened her mouth to reply but what could she say to that? She was sorry? Everything was gonna be okay? No, none of those condolences, no matter how heartfelt they were, would fly. Of course, it really didn't help that she didn't believe in her own reassuring words. Everything sure as hell was not going to be okay--in fact, she had the feeling that things were about to pull off the ultimate suck job. 

"The way I see it," Xander said, and Faith turned her inward focus back to the young man beside her, "a sunrise is like the birth, showing itself to the world everyday like it's the first time. But what is a sunrise without a sunset? It's…it's like having a life that has no ending, no promise of rest." Xander lowered his head and studied the chipped wood of the windowsill. "I guess that night at the Bronze was Anya's sunset. Maybe she was making up for never seeing one. Doesn't matter now, though. She's gone for good. Just like me."

Faith frowned and rested her forearms on the sill next to Xander. She stared at him until his reluctant gaze fell upon her. Pain and anger radiated from his brown eyes and it was something that she was intimately familiar with. How many times had she averted her own gaze from the reflection that stared back at her in order to steer clear of the monster that resided under her flesh? Oh, she knew Xander wasn't that bad by half, still, it was all there and as much as she wanted to hug him and whisper her affections, Faith knew that it would come off sounding false. So she opted for the patented Faith-directness. "No offense, X, but you sound awful fuckin' Mr. Defeatist, you know? You act like you have shit to live for, that Anya was your only reason for living. Look, I'm not sayin' it's easy, what you're goin through--fuck I know it's harder than anything you've ever been through--but this attitude of yours sure as hell ain't the same Xander that tried to reach me, not the same one that was always at B's side…" 

"And look where it got me," he interrupted, "your hands around my fuckin' throat, trying to kill me and one dead fiancée, not lookin' very good on the scorecard, would you say?" 

Faith wanted to deny his words but she couldn't. Also, she couldn't hold back the hurt that ripped through her at the unpleasant reminder of what she had almost done to him in that motel room. She lowered her head, hoping to hide behind her curly mane before Xander picked up her distress. Evidently it wasn't quick enough because she felt his warm palm graze her shoulder. 

The brunette slayer looked up into compassionate eyes, and she was surprised at how quickly his concern had driven away the tumultuous emotions that his behind his eyes moments before. 

"Look, Faith, I'm…I'm sorry. I know you're trying to help me and all but…" 

"You don't think I understand." It wasn't a question and when Xander ducked his head, he confirmed what she already knew. 

"You know, Xander," she said, her voice calm despite the fire burning within at the motives behind his placation, "I never figured you for a presumptuous bastard, but here you go, provin' me wrong." 

"Faith I…" 

She sliced her hand through the air, cutting off his words. She ran shaky fingers through her hair and inhaled the welcome scent of spring air before facing him. "You think I don't feel? You think I'm just some heartless bitch whose credo is want, take, have?" She shrugged. "Okay, so that used to be my motto and, even now, I may use it from time to time. But that's not who I am, it never was.

"The girl you saw three years ago was nothing more than a façade, a mask I pulled over myself to…to forget. I figured that if I was this bad ass bitch no one'd fuck with me, you know? Wouldn't have to worry about getting fucked over. And it almost worked, too, until I met you guys.

"Before I came to Sunny D, the only person that showed even the slightest interest in giving a shit about my well-being was Lara, my Watcher. Hell, not even my mother gave a damn, not if she let her--" Faith closed her eyes tightly, wishing away the memories that still plagued her even now. She jumped when rough fingertips tilted her chin up. 

"Faith, what is it?" 

She smiled at the concern Xander was showing, grateful that she had matured enough not to go on the defensive-binge at such tenderness. It was a weird feeling to say the least. 

"Nothing, it's just--I just…forget it. Bad memories is all." Xander nodded and Faith exhaled her relief. But she wasn't quite done, not yet. 

"The point is, Xan, is that you guys--B especially--were the first people I really cared about outside of Lara. It was so cool, that first night at the Bronze, to have people actually listening to you like you mattered. I coulda talked to you guys forever; didn't even have to be about anything important, just felt good to be listened to. And B, let me tell ya." Faith shook her head as her thoughts traveled back to that time. "It's funny, you know, I knew she was jealous of me, thought I was stealin' her thunder and all that, but I was the one jealous of her. You know why?" 

Xander shook his head. 

"Because, man, she had it all. She had that tough girl side that kicked ass on patrol but at the same time, she wasn't afraid to let people in, at least from what I saw. You guys saw her insecurities and her doubts and you didn't think less of her for that. Me? I was too afraid to do that. Even when you and B continued to reach out to me, as many times as I was tempted to just let go, I didn't. And then there was that time between me and you…" Faith trailed off and shot Xander a shy smile. 

"Yeah, that time," Xander said and returned the smile, his cheeks tinged slightly red. 

"When we were done, the few seconds afterwards, when I looked into you eyes, I just wanted to…"

"Just wanted to what, Faith?" 

Unwanted tears burned in her throat and the Slayer fought them back with all her strength. She knew that they wouldn't remain dormant long, not with the memories surfacing or Xander's concerned gaze. She could always excuse herself, or change the subject--but that would be running and Faith had done enough running to last a hundred lifetimes. She wasn't going to start again. 

"I wanted to lose myself, Xander, lose myself in you. In your warped sense of humor and studly bod. I wanted to hold your hand and take walks with you. Not only that, but I wanted to hang with you guys. I wanted me and B to sit up in her room and gossip, to have Joyce come in and offer us that hot chocolate she used to make. I wanted to go to school, even have the lil miss Wicca tutor me, if it meant spending time with you all. And I wanted to ask Giles to be my Watcher, so I could stay here. I…" The lump in Faith's throat was too much and the slayer bit her lip, forcing it back down. And it wasn't until Xander brushed his knuckles across her cheek that she realized that she was crying. 

"Why…why didn't you?" he asked, his voice a whisper that echoed through the silence of the room. 

Faith's laugh was harsh and bitter but immediately lost its bite as she spoke. "Why do you think? I was scared shitless. What if you guys didn't like the real me, what if she was someone you hated? Or worse, what if you did and something happened to you like it did with Lara? I…I couldn't take the chance…"

It was only by dumb luck that Faith realized that she and Xander were now only inches apart. He must have shuffled closer during her admission and, was it just her, or did some sly fuck turn the temp up about a thousand degrees? 

"Could you now? Take the chance?" Faith shuddered as his warm breath caressed her flesh and she held back a groan at their proximity, wanting nothing more than to lose herself in him, even after all these years. But she couldn't. This wasn't about her, or even the two of them. 

It was about Xander. 

"I will if you don't give up," she said and was relieved when he stepped back, confusion marring his features. 

"Give up?" 

"Look, X, I know losing Anya hurt more than anything you've felt, I don't have to experience it to know." She watched his features sink and though she wanted to stop hurting him, it was better for everyone in the long run if she continued. "But it's over and done with…" 

"Don't you think I know that?" he growled, anger clouding his tone. 

"Do you?" Faith replied. "Or do you think that tormenting that young girl down there will bring her back?" 

"I didn't say anything to her," he said, although some of that righteous indignation fell to the floor. 

"The cruelest words, Xander, are often spoken in silence." Xander wanted to argue, she saw that clear as day, but he reigned in whatever words that were set to spill forth. He lowered his head and Faith let him be for several minutes. She was surprised when he lifted his head, to see a saddened smile graze his lips. 

"When did you get to be all philosophical." 

Faith smiled. "Lara used to have me read out of this quote book every day. Some of it got lodged in this sticky taffy brain of mine," she said, and tapped her skull. 

"Look, Xan, the point is that the cold shoulder you're giving Baby J down there is just as bad as if you were cursing at her. She never got a chance to know most of us, since most of us were dead by the time she was born." Faith laid her hand on Xander's bicep. "Don't let her only real memory of you be hating her for Anya dying."

"I…I don't hate her, Faith. It's just that…" he sighed. "I know it's stupid and selfish and--god--oh so with the irrational, but I can't help but blame her. I know she doesn't deserve it, I know she's been through hell but I just…" 

"Need someone that's still around to blame." She read the shame in his eyes and squeezed his arm supportively. "I get that, I do. But it doesn't always work that way. And something that never works and--yeah, I know it may sound funny coming from me--is holding on to the hate, the disgust, the resentment. It's only gonna eat you alive and we can't be having that. We're gonna need you big time, X. Can you do it?" 

The conflict of emotions going through the young man were visible in every twitch of his flesh, every hair on his neck that the spring wind licked at. She saw the acceptance in his eyes yet his jaws hardened in what, she didn't know. But that didn't matter now. All that did was that he was going to try. Or at least that's what she thought he'd decided when their eyes locked. 

"I'll try, Faith," he said, "I'll try, I promise." 

Faith grinned and smacked him on the arm. "Thatta boy," she said before getting serious. "That's all you can do is try. And don't worry, I have faith in ya." They both grinned at that and Faith patted him on the shoulder before turning towards the door. 

"Faith." 

"Yeah?" 

"I just--I just wanted to say thanks…" 

"Five-by-five, X, five-by-five. Besides, it's not like you haven't done the same for me." 

"Yeah. And you were right," he said and cast a glance out the window at the sun that had faded below the horizon, "it was a nice view." 

Faith turned around and stalked towards him. She fed off his curiosity at her approach and she stopped only inches from him. Giving him a thorough once over, Faith stood on her toes and whispered in his ear. "I wasn't talking about the sunset, Harris." His eyes widened comically and she winked at him before fleeing the scene. It wouldn't do to ruin her image by falling on her face in hysterics, now would it?

She waited by the steps for him to exit the room and though looked at her in surprise, the warm smile that split his features gave Faith all sorts of naughty tinglies. Shaking those delicious rumblings away, Faith jogged down the steps, with Xander in tow. The talk had been something they both had needed, allowing them to close the door on the past and open a new entrance to their future. Of course, that side door she had inadvertently opened made her insides thrum with excitement but she wouldn't get too carried away. Things would develop of their own accord and Faith would be there when they were complete. She was through running. 

It was time to stand her ground and fight for what she wanted. Even if she wasn't exactly sure what that was. 

****

A/N: I know I was supposed to have the gang talk about the new developments on the Gabriel front but I wanted to get this out to you, plus, I think Faith and Xander deserved their own chapter. Next chapter should be up by the weekend. 


	21. Halo for Horns

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 20 

__

Halo for Horns

She remembered it all: the raw ache when she realized nothing could be done to save her lover, the months of depression that culminated in the ultimate pain when she slammed the sword home and into his gut. She had almost died there; watching him sucked through the horrific maw of Acathla, knowing that it had been her that set the events into motion. She had brought forth this soulless monster and it had been her destiny to put him down. 

The pain and guilt had lessened over the years though she wasn't so naïve to think that it would ever abate. It would haunt her till her final days, the hurt and betrayal that danced in his eyes as he called her name, a question in his tone. She had no answer for him then and still had none for herself that satisfied the closest masochist within her. Somehow, 'it was my responsibility' didn't quite do it. The only solace she had taken during the years that had followed was the monstrous being that wore the face of her first love would never surface again. Angel loved her too much to allow Angelus to ever appear again. That was why he left. 

It wasn't until she and Spike fell into one another that Buffy had placed Angel to the back of her mind. In truth, it was kinda difficult to think of anything coherent, much less complicated, in the blonde vampire's presence. At first it had been the comfort of his words as he soothed her or the ear he offered to talk to. After that it had been the overwhelming sensations he soaked her body with. That first night Buffy had known what it had meant to be addicted. It was physical but so much more as well. But it was only during her dreams, when her subconscious fought for dominance that Buffy truly understood how deep her feelings for Spike ran. Of course, it wasn't until she was near death that conscious and subconscious meshed, and she whispered those three words she had felt for so long but denied. Still, sleeping the sleep of the whipped and battered had taken months from their new lives together; time she could never get back. That wouldn't stop her, however, and Buffy had decided that day when she awoke in the hospital that everyday with Spike would be like the last, she would never deny him her love, not for a second. 

That vow had been shattered for one brief moment when Jay had spoken words that Buffy never thought she would have to hear; _Angelus was back. _

True, he had taken on another moniker, another angelic name, no less, but it all added up to the same. Angel had lost his soul and that had meant only one thing. 

Truthfully, that thought had disturbed her greatly although the pain of knowing Angel had found someone to give him that true moment of happiness had lasted for, at most, the blink of an eye. 

By a cruel twist of fate, no doubt, Spike's eyes had fallen on Buffy at that particular moment where jealousy and anger clouded her vision. And that twisted frame of hurt she had seen when Angel was sucked into hell shrouded Spike's marbled features. 

Buffy opened her mouth to say something, anything, but he turned back to their daughter, grabbing Jay's hand in his and putting distance between he and Buffy. 

"Gabriel is Angel?" Willow's voice broke Buffy's trance and the slayer focused on the problem at hand. She would have plenty of time to talk with Spike about her reaction but now there were more important things to deal with. 

"How did this occur?" Giles asked. "I do not proclaim to know Angel as well as Buffy, but I daresay he would never put himself in such a position to lose his soul, not after knowing the destruction he wrought when he lost it." 

"You're right, Ripper," Spike said, and Buffy winced at the bitterness in his tone, "you don't know Peaches one bit. He's a selfish bastard, that one, just like me." Buffy wanted hide when Spike's gaze fell upon her. "Gets caught up in something that's too good to be true, and by the time you suss out the fine print on the warnin' label, 's too late."

"When did this happen, Jay? Who did he lose his soul to?" Buffy asked Inside she was shivering but on the outside she remained calm. 

Jay shook her head. "Guys, didn't you hear me? He didn't lose his soul, or I don't think he did."

"But I thought you said he was Gabriel," Tara said. 

"He is, or was, or…" Jay sighed. "You know what I mean. In my time, he was Gabriel."

"But Angel has a soul," Buffy said, "he wouldn't do something like that." 

Spike and Jay snorted simultaneously, their faces identical portraits of disgust. "It's not about the soul, Mum," her daughter said, and walked over to the island, "but about that person's character." 

"And good old Liam never had much of that," Spike muttered. 

"While I understand your point, Jay," Giles said, staring at his feet while he polished his glasses, "Angel has proven for quite some time that he is a champion for our side. Were he absent of his soul, that would not be the case." 

Jay's hands ran through her hair, a trait she had definitely taken from her father. 

"You guys don't get it," she said. "Just because he has a soul doesn't mean he can't one day crack up, decide that the good guy thing just isn't for him and go bat for the other team." 

"He…he wouldn't," Buffy said, and instantly regretted it when Spike growled next to her.

"He wouldn't, would he? Of course Peaches wouldn't do something like that. He wouldn't set fire to two vampires, his Sire and Childe, only days after he locked them in a room with a dozen _human _lawyers. And he sure as hell wouldn't shag his Sire because he wanted to lose his soul but instead he knocks her up. Oh, he wouldn't do that…" 

"Daddy," Jay warned but Spike continued. 

"…Because he has a soul. Is that right, folks? Is that what I'm hearin' you say? Because you all know good old William the Bloody doesn't have a soddin' soul. What's to say he won't turn back to a killer? Oh, I forgot, the bloody chip up in here." He pressed a finger to his temple. "Doesn't matter if he's still evil now, does it? He's just William the Bloody useless, you know. Can't 'urt a soddin thing, 's as harmless as a baby pup. Innit that right, Slayer?" 

"Daddy…" Jay started but was silenced by a vicious glare from her father. 

Buffy was reeling from the anger and pain that laced her lover's words. She had thought her declaration of love would wipe away his insecurities but that had been foolishness. No matter how much Buffy loved him, a hundred plus years of self-doubt could not be cleansed at the drop of three little words. It was impossible. But here she was, realizing for the first time just how deep his insecurities ran, how blind she had been to Spike's distrust. Oh, she had known how he had blamed himself for her death, but not this. She needed to reassure him, just as much as he needed to hear it but the lines of communication inside her head choose that moment to not pay the bill and shut down. And instead of reaffirming her belief in him, in them, Buffy said the worst thing possible. 

"Angel…and Darla?" The pressure in the room intensified and a cold sensation enveloped the slayer, threatening to devour her bones. She heard Jay gasp and the swirl of air to her left. She knew without saying what had happened but still Buffy had needed to confirm it with her own two eyes. 

Spike was gone. 

"Great," Buffy said, "just great."

~~~

He needed to get out of there. 

It had been bad enough when Buffy's hazel eyes had shone disappointment at the knowledge of Angel finding that true moment of happiness again. But after Spike's little tirade, she hadn't even had the decency to toss a 'shut up, Spike' his way. Instead, her first thought had been of Angel. He knew she'd been confused by the anger in his tone and, per Buffy's usual, she had focused upon the information he had so spitefully given. Still…

"Bloody wanker," he muttered as he slid his arms into the duster and slammed the front door closed. He had sensed Harris and the other slayer coming down the steps but his mind had been so clouded by emotion that he paid them no heed. He did, however, glance at the two figures walking from the black convertible parked in the driveway. 

"Spike," Angel said but Spike ignored him. Without stopping, the platinum blonde hurried down the street, all too aware of the fierce whispers conducted behind him before the familiar presence of his Sire fell in line behind him. Spike shook his head in disgust and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. The myriad of emotions playing war inside of him caused his hands to shake and it couldn't hold them still long enough to light the ciggy. Frustrated, he hurled the unlit fag into the air and stalked further into the night, well aware of the footsteps that were his companion. 

He needed to kill something; needed to rip into muscle and bone. And maybe then he'd be able to deal with it all. But until then, he was going to impart pure, unadulterated violence on the denizens of the underworld. 

After all, a bloke had to have something to look forward to. 

~~~

"Far be it from me to state the obvious," CJ said as his eyes bounced off the six individuals spread out in the kitchen, "but am I missing something here or what?" 

"No," Dawn said dryly, "you're all caught up on our soap opera lives. Except about Buffy's ex, who happens to be a vampire, going all Darth Vader when he gets a happy. Or the fact that he and Spike really don't like each other and that…" 

"Dawn," Giles said, "do be quiet. Buffy? Are you all right?" 

The Slayer turned towards her Watcher, her hazel eyes burning in frustration and guilt. She opened her mouth to speak but two other figures entered the room. 

"So, what's up with the Blonde and the Beautiful?" Faith asked and hopped on to the island. Buffy glanced at her sister slayer and then to Xander, who leaned against the doorway. He smiled and Buffy returned the sentiment, albeit half-heartedly before making eye contact with Faith. 

"He left." 

"I know that, B, but he didn't look too keen about whatever went down when me and Xand were upstairs." 

"Oh, I don't know," Willow said, "it may be the tiny little fact that Gabriel and Angel are the same person…er, vampire." 

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Cordelia asked as she pushed past Xander and into the kitchen. 

"Hey, Cordy," Buffy said, her voice deceptively calm. "Where's Angel?" 

The seer shrugged. "He went after Spike for whatever reason." 

"I see." 

"Why? Is something wrong?" 

"Well," Jay said, and glanced between the other room occupants, "guess I've got a lot of explaining to do." 

***

He heard them, the two vampires, talking. Their words were harsh and severe to one another, ignorant of their surroundings. They both stunk of righteousness, although the one had no soul. He followed their voices until they came into view. He bit back a gasp of surprise when he saw the face of his Master on the dark-haired vampire. The shock quickly wore off however, as he remembered that Gabriel had cautioned him about this. Until everything was complete, until he completed his part of the sacrifice, killing this angelic incarnation of Gabriel would resound throughout the temporal fabric, erasing the Gabriel of the future from existence. Such effects would be profound and even he wasn't sure the effects it would have on a demonic transplant from Quortoth. But did it matter? He was here for one purpose and one purpose alone; raise havoc and strife before killing those that stood by the slayers but not touching the slayers themselves. 

But Gabriel had said nothing about sparing the blonde vampire, though, did he?

Algolagniar smiled, his jagged teeth glistening in the moonlight. He would have his fun with the two vampires, killing the blonde one and allowing the other to gather reinforcements. That was when the slaughter could begin. It had been too long since he'd reveled in a good massacre. 

***

He had spent the last thirty minutes trailing close behind the younger vampire, waiting for Spike to break the silence. It would do no good to strike up a conversation with the sullen blonde. Angel knew that much from experience. When Spike was in one of his moods, it was of one's best interest to hide. Even during his tenure as Angelus, Angel had never really crossed sullen Spike. Of course back then, with Dru at his side, those moods were few and far between but when they did surface, Angelus respected (for the most part) young William's sulky temperament. And that had been when the younger vamp would have been no match for his centuries old Sire. 

Now, if it was to come down to it, Angel wasn't entirely sure that he could best Spike in a fight, so he had taken the 'caution, better part of valor' approach. 

The sharp crack nabbed the elder vampire's attention and Angel rolled his eyes at yet another destroyed headstone. Number three on the night. Annoyance flared up within him and before he could bite his tongue, Angel spoke. 

"That's it," he said, "kill the dangerous tombstones. I guess they were planning some particularly nefarious scheme to open the Hellmouth." 

Spike whirled on him, all platinum and leather (Big Bad, world, here me roar) and stalked up to Angel, stopping inches before making contact. The scowl that would have frightened most did nothing but help drive the irritation from Angel's mind and he scarcely had the control to bottle his amusement as he looked down at the shorter vamp. 

"Got somethin' to say, _Peaches_? Cause if you do, I'd really like to hear it…oh, wait a minute, I think not." Spike sneered, glancing at Angel in disdain and the latter knew that Spike was looking for a legitimate reason to start a brawl. He wasn't thinking straight, that much Angel could tell. Fortunately for the both of them, an afternoon spent with Cordelia in his arms had calmed Angel to the point where he could overlook the festering contempt that Spike always seemed to bring forth in the elder vampire. It had nothing to do with the knowledge that Cordelia and Buffy would kick he and Spike's collective asses if the two vampires traded blows. Nope, nothing at all. 

Angel snapped out of his thoughts when Spike turned away to flounce into the night. He caught up with the livid vampire in three strides, placing his hand firmly on Spike's shoulder. The younger vampire came to a halt and Angel swore, knowing that it had been a hasty action. 

__

"You know," Spike said, his voice frighteningly calm, "in a hundred plus years of existence, 've found that it's quite beneficial to 'ave two hands. Not to say that some blokes can't get along without two meathooks, but generally, 's not a good idea." He turned his head slowly and Angel saw the gold flecks that warred with blue as Spike's demon clawed dangerously close to the surface. 

"And judging from the 'no fun' clause of that soul of yours, _mate, _I wager that you need all the fingers and hands you can get." Spike nudged his head in the direction of Angel's hand and the latter acquiesced, removing his hand. 

"What's with the tortured act, Spike?" Angel asked as they resumed their walk through the cemetery, only to stop again when Angel's question sunk in. 

"Torture act? What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Just what it sounds like. You've been skulking through town for the last half hour with that 'I just got my favorite toy taken away' look."

"I. Do. Not. Sulk!" Spike shouted, and slammed his heel into another headstone, shattering it with a reverse crescent kick. When he turned back to Angel, the fire in his cerulean eyes had been muted but Angel knew that the violence to an inanimate object was nothing more than a temporary fix. 

"That makes four," Angel said. "Were they the Four Horsemen or something equally dastardly?" 

"Sod off," Spike said and walked past Angel. 

"Where are you going?" 

"Somewhere where you aren't, ya big poof."

"Spike…" 

"Leave me be." 

"I will," he said and cut in front of the younger vampire, "when you stop acting like such an ass."

Spike's laughter carried through the night, and the honesty behind it startled Angel. 

"I'm actin' like an ass, Peaches? Oh, that's rich, Angel. Comin' from you no less, 's bloody hilarious, considerin' you're tha soddin' poster boy for what 's like to be a grade A ass. Pot--kettle, mate, pot--kettle."

Angel pinched the bridge of his nose. Not being around his Childe for so long had given Angel time enough to forgot how quickly Spike was able to grate every last nerve in his Sire's (or anyone, for that matter) body. 

"How is it that Buffy hasn't killed you yet?" What had been meant as a sign of irritation and, for all intents a joke (although there was a bit of scientific curiosity inlayed in there as well) was taken as anything but. Outstanding grief washed over Spike's face before everything but the faintest sorrow in his eyes was closed off. It was the only clue that Angel needed. 

"It's about Buffy, isn't it? Something happened between you two." 

" 's really none of your business, mate," he replied coolly and slipped an unlit fag between his lips. 

_Defensive Spike 101, _Angel thought and mentally smacked himself. _God, I think I've been hanging around the Scoobies waaay too much. _The snap-hiss of a lighter drew Angel's attention and he watched as Spike took two quick inhalations before exhaling a steady stream of smoke. 

"You know," the blonde said, "I really don't get it. What's so bloody special about you?" 

"Aside from the fact that I was the only vampire in history sloppy enough to get cursed with a soul?" Spike glared at him. "Okay, bad joke, but not far from the truth." 

"So you think you're special?" 

Angel opened his mouth to respond immediately but didn't. It was a good point. Did he think he was special just because he was cursed with a soul? It wasn't by choice that he received it, so how could he be special? Most would call him unlucky but Angel had come to realize that without the soul, he would never have met Buffy or the Scoobs. The LA Gang either. Yeah, there was the whole Shanshu prophecy but who said that it was him? Maybe, if he hadn't received the soul another vampire would have been cursed with one or, however far-fetched it seemed, asked for one. Fat chance of that. No vampire in his right mind would ask for a soul. Angel felt Spike's eyes boring into him and shivered. It was just a passing thought but the possibility of Spike asking for a soul was…well, it was ridiculous. With that said, it _was _Spike and he definitely fit the criteria for doing the absurd. 

Shaking off the thought, Angel looked Spike in the eyes. "No, I don't think I'm special, unique maybe, but not special." 

The answer threw Spike off kilter but he hid it admirably. He shrugged, took another few puffs before chucking the fag to the ground, extinguishing it with the toe of his Doc Martens. 

"So, this helping the hopeless gig, this supposed connection to the Powers I've heard about doesn't make you feel all warm and cuddly with yourself?" 

"Spike, just because someone is destined to do something doesn't make them special. Just as having a soul doesn't make someone good." 

"True. They could always lock a dozen lawyers in a room and let two vamps chow down in an all you can eat buffet." Angel winced and the smugness returned to Spike's face. 

"Or just like a soulless demon would allow himself to be tortured by a hell god for his mortal enemy and her little sister…" 

"Who told you?" Angel smirked inwardly at the panic in Spike's eyes. 

"I know a lot of things, William."

"Except that your once honey was shaggin' a soulless demon, right?" Angel mood darkened, all traces of humor gone. He knew he was playing into Spike's hands, giving the younger vamp the exact reaction he'd been looking for but Angel didn't care. Even with Cordelia, being reminded that Buffy was with Spike, regardless of what he told her last night was… it was still unnatural. 

"You're never going to grow up, are you?"

"I beg your pardon…" 

"No," Angel said, "you won't. Everything has to be a competition with you, Spike, doesn't it? You knew you never had Dru, so what did you do? Tried to make a name for yourself killing slayers. Then you flounce into town, see that I have your potential third and instead of trying to kill her, what do you do? You go and fall in love with her. Only problem is, just like Dru, she's still…" 

Angel knew the punch was coming but did nothing to stop it. Spike's fist slammed into the right side of Angel's face, knocking him to the ground. The platinum blonde stood over the fallen vamp, his chest heaving and while Angel's demon cheered for the opportunity to fight, the other part of him was ashamed. He had attacked Spike where it hurt the younger vampire the most, his pride and insecurities as to his self-worth. 

"Spike…" 

"If you even think of finishing that sentence, I will rip your bloody heart out through your eye sockets."

"I'm sorry." Even as he said the words, Angel nearly gasped in surprise. But surprise didn't do justice to the gawking that Spike did, anger aside. Angel took advantage of his Childe's shock and stood up, wiping the blood from his busted lip.

"Look, Spike, what I meant to say, earlier was that it doesn't have to be this way. Doesn't have to be a competition between us." _Doesn't it? _

"Doesn't it?" Spike asked and Angel almost laughed at the echo of his own thoughts. "As you so expertly pointed out, Angel, you had Dru first, you had the fame and notoriety and I 'ad nothin'. Just the affections of a raving lunatic that every time she got her knickers in a twist so gleefully reminded me that I'd never be her daddy. I was never rough enough with her or cruel enough to satisfy her for long stretches without her pining for you…"

"Spike, I…" 

"No, don't you dare! It's your fault, you know. You made her. You let her make me, and for the last hundred and twenty years I've lived in your bloody shadow. I am fuckin' sick of it!" 

Angel was stunned. He had always known that Spike resented him, but to hear it firsthand, to see the emotion swimming in those nearly soulful eyes rocked the vampire to the core. 

"And the Slayer? Yeah, she loves me; I'm not a complete idiot on that. She does. But let her soulful knight enter the picture and I'm nothing more than convenient again. You know she told me that once, that I was convenient. Helluva thing to say to someone you just shagged all bloody night, innit, Angelus?"

"Spike," Angel said, and forced his voice to remain even, commanding, "you're talking crazy." 

"Am I?" Spike stalked towards Angel, stopping short just inches from the latter's chest. His smiled cruelly although Angel saw the pain that threatened to spill out at any time. 

"Then tell me, Peaches, why after finding out about you playing for the other team in the good old future, that the only thing Buffy manages to do is ask about you and Darla." 

Angel grimaced and Spike saw it clearly. For several seconds the air filled with the stench of hatred and Angel braced himself for the inevitable blow. It never came. 

Instead, Spike backed off and regarded his Sire with prodding eyes. Angel overcame the urge to turn away, meeting the resigned azure liquid gaze with…with what he didn't know. Spike turned away first, showing his back to Angel. When he spoke, for first time in a hundred years, Angel wanted to hold Spike and beg forgiveness. 

"I know I don't deserve her, Angel, I do. There're blokes out there better 'n me, waitin' for someone like 'er to come along. And if I could, I'd give 'er to the best one of 'em. But I can't. Call me a soulless demon if you will, doesn't matter, I'm too selfish to let 'er go. Know why? It's not 'cause I know no one can love 'er better 'n me. 'S 'cause I made 'er a promise to never leave."

"I know, Spike." 

"An' no matter what, I'm not gonna leave 'er 'for 'er own good', 'm not gonna make that decision for 'er. If she wants to be rid o' me, then so be it. But if she doesn't send me away, I'm gonna stay 'ere till they put 'er in the ground…or I'm dust in the soddin' wind. 'm never gonna 'urt her, 's long as I can 'elp it." He turned towards Angel and the elder vampire was in shock when he saw the tears that welled in Spike's eyes. 

"She's all I've got, Peaches, 'er and the Nibblet and Jay. Without 'em…without 'em, I don't know what…" A harsh sob caught in Spike's throat and Angel was torn between comforting the peroxide blonde and letting him be. His nurturing instincts took over, however, and he took two steps towards Spike when he felt it. 

"Spike--" Angel said and whirled around. 

Just in time to see a purple form land in front of him and a large fist fly towards his face. 

The last thought that raced through Angel's mind as he crashed into a headstone was that he'd never get the chance to make amends with Spike.

***

"So, let me get this straight," Xander said, "in the future, something happens to Angel, he goes all evil Willy without the loss of his soul, and goes all Kull the Conqueror on the world?" 

"That about sums it up," Jay said. 

"Okay, but no one has answered why exactly Angel goes crazy," Cordelia said. 

"Evidently," Jay said, "it has something to do with me." 

"How do you mean?" 

"Well, Mum and Dad had regular contact with Angel up until I was born. After my birth, they didn't hear from him again."

"So, somehow your birth affected Angel," Tara said. "But that still doesn't explain the prophecy about him having two souls."

Jay sighed, knowing that this particular part would be especially difficult for Buffy. Although she wished Spike was here, in a way she was glad because, Buffy's probable reaction would hurt him, too. 

"About two years ago, this law firm in LA got its hands on some ancient scrolls on something called the Raising." 

"The…the Raising?" Giles asked. "Are…are you sure?" 

"What's this Raising?" Buffy asked. 

Giles stood and stroked his chin as one hand sunk into the pocket of his slacks. "The Raising is a ritual where a vampire who has been destroyed can be resurrected. Several offerings must be made, one of which is the sacrifice of five vampires."

"Is that what the Master's followers were trying to do?" Buffy asked, her voice an uncertain whisper.

"Not exactly. In the Raising, from what I understand, the vampire resurrected will not arise as a vampire at all, but a human." 

"A human?" Willow asked. 

Giles nodded. "He, or she, would appear as they had been the moments of their final breath."

"Meaning?" 

"Meaning, that if one was dying from, say, cancer, before being sired, then he or she would be resurrected with the same affliction." 

"So what does this have to do with Soul Boy?" Xander asked. 

"Darla was resurrected," Buffy said. Her voice was hollow, bare and she shook the thoughts away when the others looked at her. "Spike…before he left, said something about Angel and Darla…" Buffy stopped in mid sentence and turned disbelieving eyes towards her daughter. 

"They had a child, Jay, didn't they?" 

"Wait," Faith said, and walked over to Buffy, "you didn't know?" 

Buffy bit down the anger that welled inside her yet it resounded in her tone. "Obviously I wasn't important enough for him to impart that particular piece of info to."

"Geez, B, I thought he would have told you last night when you two were all kumbaya on the front porch." 

Buffy opened her mouth to argue but closed it. She did remember him saying that he had to tell her something, something that would piss her off. But she had no idea it would have been this. Angel, with a child? The fact that it hurt, badly, was no surprise. The shock had been that it didn't hurt as much as she would have thought. 

_Can't worry about that now, though, _she said to herself and erased the pain from mind and body, allowing the slayer to emerge. 

"Okay," she said, once more in command of her faculties, "Angel and Darla had a kid. What's that have to do with Jay?" 

"From what I understand," Faith said, "a few months ago, the little cherub was kidnapped, taken to this demon dimension by this guy that experienced first hand the wrath of Angelus a few centuries ago."

"What?" Buffy asked. 

"And I think that when I was born, somehow the dimensional walls allowed him to be freed." 

"And I'm guessing," Xander said, "that spending your formative years in some cracked out hell dimension, not conducive to non-psychotic behavior." 

"From what I could gather, from Emerald and other sources, Connor, Angel's son, came through the Quortoth portal and…" 

"Quortoth?!" Giles exclaimed.

"Something wrong, Giles?" Willow asked. "Aside from it being a hell dimension and all." 

"From what has been written about it, Quortoth is one of the most brutal, vile hell dimensions there are. However, unlike most, Quortoth is habitable to humans such as us, but it purportedly changes those who enter on a fundamental level." 

"And how is that?" Cordelia asked. 

"Honestly, I do not know." 

"So," Buffy said, and turned towards her daughter, "what did Connor do to Angel?"

"I'm not totally sure, but he somehow, I guess took over Angel. No one, not even Emerald really knew." 

"But you know enough to know that you're the only one that can stop him," Buffy said. 

"Yeah. I think we're connected somehow, I just…there's a lot of unanswered questions about a lot of things so…" 

"Algolagniar," CJ whispered, the word breaking into the already tense atmosphere. 

"What was that?" Dawn asked. 

When he looked at her, for one brief moment, he and Dawn were connected in ways that he had never imagined. Visions of Dawn, draped in emerald light, holding him, pulling him from the darkness, guiding him to a better place, filled his mind. The thought that he loved her, wholly and completely, played over inside his mind, a cacophonous symphony that refused to die. He wanted to say it to her, cover her body in his as he drove the point home…but he didn't. And as his restraint held his tongue, CJ felt the moment disappear, leaving only traces of it, senses of that déjà vu that had haunted him his entire life. 

"CJ--" Dawn said, worry evident in her tone. He felt her thin fingers against his thigh and shook his head, brushing away the haze of confusion. 

"Yeah?" 

"What just happened?"

"What do you mean?" 

"You kinda went catatonic-Buffy for a minute there," Buffy said. On his confusing look, she shrugged. "It was a thing." 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dawn asked, stroking his leg, her brow twisted in a worried frown. 

CJ smiled wearily and patted Dawn's cheek, "I'm okay, Em, really I am." 

All traces of a smile vanished when several pairs of eyes stared at him in shock. 

"Who's 'Em'?" Cordelia asked, her eyes drifting from Xander to Buffy to the others. 

"Beats me," Faith said, and shrugged. "I only work here." 

But before anyone could speak, Buffy and Cordelia stiffened, and their eyes met. The room burned with power as something the others couldn't discern passed between slayer and seer. 

"Buffy? Cordelia?" Willow said, and glanced at Tara for reassurance before facing her two old friends. "Are you okay?" 

The question seemed to snap both of them out of the daze and when they glanced back at the group everyone saw the sheer terror written across both women's faces. 

"Buffy…" Dawn said, and stood. She walked over to her sister but did not touch her, afraid to disturb the slayer. "What's wrong?" 

"Daddy…" Jay whispered and all eyes turned to her. "It's gonna kill him." 

TBC in **_Melee…_**


	22. Melee

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 21 

__

Melee

****

May 20th, 2002

"Bollocks!" Spike shouted as he picked himself off the ground again. The first ten minutes of the fight speed had been his weapon and he used it to stay away from the monstrously powerful…well, monster. But even with that distinct advantage, he could only outmaneuver it for so long, thus the 'get up 'n go back after 'im' strategy he now employed. Although the demon looked no smarter than a soddin' Pez dispenser, it adapted to Spike's style uncomfortably fast. It didn't help that flesh-on-flesh contact made Spike's skin feel alive in a decidedly bad way.

Shaking the haze from his mind, Spike looked up just in time to see the freak demon of the week bringing down a cross-shaped headstone towards his platinum head. The vampire rolled to the side just in time, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the edge of the weapon slammed into the ground with a resounding thud. 

"Missed me, you sod," he said and smashed his fist into the demon's lower back. The purple-skinned beast howled, automatically slinging its arm backwards. Spike ducked under the blow and returned one of his own, the heel of his hand colliding with the demon's chin. He finished off the combo with a reverse side kick, and his own demon chanted excitedly when he felt something in the monstrosity's chest give. 

"Hurt, don't it," Spike taunted as the demon held the spot where it had been kicked. Its head was lowered as it gasped for air. Not wasting any time, Spike dropped to the ground and, using his left arm as a pivot, swung his right leg around and into the demon's jaw. The satisfying crunch of bones shattering buoyed the vampire's spirits even further and Spike glowered at his fallen enemy. 

"See there, Peaches," he called over his shoulder to the still unconscious brunette, "that's how it's done." Smirk firmly entrenched on his face, Spike gave a last disdainful look to the downed beast before sauntering towards the dropped headstone. Squatting down, he ran his hands along the sharp edges of the makeshift weapon. 

"Impressive piece 'o hardware you got here, Barney," he said over his shoulder, "right nice for cavin' a bloke's skull in. Though, considerin' the thickness of that melon dome of yours, not sure if it'd make a dent in the old cranium." Spike cocked his head as if in deep thought and shrugged. He wrapped his hands around the thinnest part of the headstone and hefted it across his shoulders. 

"Well," he said, testing its weight, "only one way to find out." 

Spike turned around, ready to pummel the downed creature to death but a hand around his neck made the vampire lose his grip on the concrete marker and it fell harmlessly to the ground. 

"You're wrong, Vampire," the beast murmured, its fetid breath washing over Spike's face and the platinum blonde felt the beginnings of an incredible agony starting where the creature held him around the neck. 

"This," it said and smashed an overly large fist into the vampire's ribs, shattering three upon impact, "is how it's done." The creature ushered Spike to his feet but held his gasping form firmly around the biceps, its talons ripping through leather and flesh. Spike had the chance to see the beast open its maw inconceivably wide before dropping his head. 

_Bugger, _he thought and felt the sharp teeth brush against his forehead and chin, _what an unbelievably embarrassin' way to go. _

~~~

Buffy led the other two slayers through the fourth cemetery in fifteen minutes. Jay's dire warning, as well as Buffy and Cordelia's simultaneous premonitions, had thrown the three women into immediate action. They hadn't had an opportunity to load up per usual but each woman managed to grabbed a couple stakes as well as a secondary weapon. Faith had opted for the repeater crossbow, Jay twin daggers, and Buffy a short sword ideal for close-quarters combat. Although the temperature was mild, all three women were sweating heavily, and their breaths came in sharp pants. 

"Where the hell is he?" Buffy asked aloud as they swept across the western part of the Heberly cemetery. 

"We'll find him, B," Faith said, and when they came to a stop, laid a comforting hand on Buffy's shoulder. 

"Yeah, Mum," Jay added, "we'll find him." 

"And then the two of you can start back up on your Olympic sex-a-thon."

"Eww, Faith, gross. Please don't put images of my parents' naked bodies in my head…" Jay started and trailed off. Her eyes scanned the grounds and when Faith turned to Buffy she saw that the petite blonde was doing the same thing. Faith was startled when the other two women jumped, met each other's gazes and darted off into the night. 

"God, you guys," Faith said as she sprinted after them, "give a girl some warning why don't ya." 

No more words were spoken as they tore through the cemetery, hurdling tombstones and ducking tree branches with a casual ease. As they ran further into the graveyard, Faith felt the familiar stirrings at the back of her neck that warned her that a demon was close. She tightened her grip around the crossbow, finger stroking the trigger in anticipation. Her heartbeat quickened even more at the prospects of battle and she smiled, confident that they were ready for whatever it was that was…

"What they hell?" she said when she rammed into other two slayers. "B, Jay, why'd you stop?" She glared at the two women and was taken aback at the horrified looks on their faces. It wasn't until she followed their gazes that Faith saw what it was and the unfamiliar pang of grief shot through her at what was about to happen. 

Sixty yards away the giant demon had Spike immobilized and the vampire's head was almost completely enveloped by the creature's mouth. She saw the creature's head swivel slightly towards them and Faith would have sworn it smirked. 

"No!" Buffy screamed and raced across the grass. Faith knew she'd never get there in time and the brunette slayer had the horrible feeling that they were about to watch Spike get dusted. 

"No," she whispered as anger swept away the blind panic that had coiled in her belly. Working on instinct alone, Faith raised the crossbow, said a momentary prayer, and fired. 

Her only thought was that she hoped her aim was true. 

~~~

Dawn paced nervously across her room, glancing at the clock once more. _He should be here by now, _she thought and peered out her window. When Buffy had told Dawn and the others to stay, only taking Faith and Jay with her, Dawn had refused to stay put, even if it was only in her mind. When she had left the room, CJ had followed her, translating her eye roll into what it was; an 'escape' attempt. He had told her that he lived no more than ten minutes away on foot and would pick her up on his motorcycle and they would search for the others together. 

That had been almost twenty minutes ago. 

"I knew I should've went with him," she muttered. The truth was that Dawn knew that, in his condition, it would take CJ a lot longer to get there and back but that didn't make the wait any easier. "Stupid boys." 

The scowl she proudly wore disappeared when the distinct rev of a motorcycle engine sounded outside. Reaching under her pillow, Dawn pulled out the stake and holy water and stuffed it into her waistband. She started for the window but stopped. She turned around and entered her closest, rummaging around for several seconds before she found what she was looking for. Smiling at the weapon, she stuffed it in her (or Buffy's--she was just borrowing) boots. 

Straddling the sill, Dawn peered out at CJ on his bike. A faint smile crossed her face before the scowl reappeared and, without a second thought, jumped off the roof. 

It took half a second for Dawn to right herself before she ran to the bike. She took the proffered helmet and got on, wrapping one arm around CJ's waist. He glanced over his shoulder and flipped up the visor. 

"Remember that truck I told you I got hit by?" he asked, and his voice betrayed the pain that he was in. 

"Huh?" 

"Remind me never to get hit by it again." 

Dawn rolled her eyes and smacked him in the back of the head. "Jokes, later, rescue Spike now." 

"You know where he is?" 

"Heberly." 

"You sure?" 

"There will be a question and answer session later for your convenience but for now, just freakin' drive!" 

Dawn caught the amused gleam in his eyes before he nodded and slammed his visor back down. Putting on the helmet in her hand, Dawn squeezed him slightly when she was done. Without another word, he hit the accelerator and they speed down the street, intent on saving Dawn's best friend. 

_Please God, don't let us be too late. _

~~~

It was one of those things she knew with perfect clarity but refused to believe. She had often done that during her tenure as a slayer fighting the inevitable. Her record was immaculate, all the proof one needed was to look around, see that the world was still around. She had gone against insurmountable odds, prophecies dating back to a time before civilization, never giving up, never admitting defeat. So she had fallen a few times; the important thing was that she got back up, dusted herself off and proceeded to kick major ass, and look quite the sexy hot momma doing it. 

Hell gods, ancient vampires, pure demons, scientific Frankenstein monsters; it didn't matter. Buffy Summers faced all comers and always won. 

But she wouldn't win this. She would never make it in time. 

Still, she refused to acknowledge it. 

Although her strides were longer and faster than they had ever been, it still seemed that Spike was getting further and further away. The rational part of her mind had given up, knowing that she would never reach him in time, but the other part of her mind, the irrational part that was home to her passions and hopes and dreams screamed for her to run faster. And she did. 

A little more than halfway there, Buffy caught a glance of the creature's eye; the crimson flamed stared through her before it winked. Her heart stopped at that, finally preparing for the inevitable. And despite her knowledge of what was fated for her lover, Buffy still ran, her stride never faltering. 

Not even when the bolt pierced the demon's eye. 

Algolagniar roared and the power behind the shot jerked its head to the side and its grip on Spike loosened. Evidently still conscious, Spike kicked the demon away before he collapsed to the ground. The woman in Buffy was torn between tending to her lover and the need to seek some major vengeance over the thing that had tried to take Spike from her. Giving her lover a once over, Buffy made the decision without breaking stride. She lowered her shoulder and barreled into the demon's abdomen, taking it to the ground in a tangle of limbs. 

Mounting the demon's waist, Buffy slammed her fists into its face continuously, ignorant of the searing pain that lanced up her arms with each strike. Her mind was fixated on one thing; _it almost killed Spike. I almost lost him today…it almost killed him. _

So lost in her maddening rage, Buffy heard rather than felt the impact to her ribs. But the pain of the blow was not far behind and the slayer rolled off of the demon, putting herself between it and Spike and picking up her discarded weapon in the process. When she wrapped her hands around the hilt of her sword, the agony of where her flesh had touched the monstrosity reasserted itself. 

"Hurts, doesn't it little girl?" the demon asked, its voice like a painful grate against a bed of nails. "The ache you now feel is nothing compared to what I will do to you and yours." 

"Like I haven't heard that before," Buffy replied, trying to block out the flames of pain that licked its way up her arms and ignoring the throb from her ribs. 

"See this?" it asked and grabbed the bolt that still protruded from its eye. "My suffrage from this injury is exquisite, rarely have I felt such an invigorating pain. And I have you to thank for it." 

Buffy rolled her eyes, covering for the fear the demon's words brought forth. "Are we gonna fight or are you gonna go 'to be or not to be' on me? Cause, not really a big fan of Shakespeare."

Buffy shivered when the beast smiled at her but the moment was short lived when Jay flew through the air, the heel of her boot catching Algolagniar in the eye, snapping the bolt in half. 

"Jay, watch it," Buffy called to her daughter, "don't let him touch your skin." 

"Got it," the young woman said and elbowed the staggering creature in the nose. 

"B," Faith said as she ran up to the slayer, "you okay?" 

"I'm…I'm not sure," she replied. "My hands, where I touched him…it feels as if my skin's…" 

"On fire," Spike said from on the ground. 

"Spike!" Buffy dropped her sword again and fell to the ground, immediately curling Spike's lacerated head into her lap. 

" 'm fine, pet," he wheezed, "just a mite embarrassed. Didn't expect for Jaws there to like platinum vampire head." 

"B," Faith said and the aforementioned slayer looked up at her sister slayer with watery eyes. Faith cracked a smile before picking up the discarded sword. "You take care of Don Juan here and I'll help Baby Jay kick its Sesame Street ass." 

"Don't let it touch you, Shade," Spike said. Faith frowned before nodding, and then she threw herself into the fight. 

Buffy turned her attention back to her lover and for the first time she realized that his arms where the creature was holding him were bleeding profusely. 

"Yeah," he said after noticing her gaze, "wanker ruined a perfectly good coat." 

Despite the circumstances, Buffy laughed. Spike may have been in bad condition but he'd be fine. She graced his bleeding forehead with a gentle kiss before whispering 'I love you' in his ear. Satisfied for the moment, Buffy turned her gaze to the fight as the other two slayers battled the demon that had nearly taken Spike's life. 

As much as she wanted to jump into the fray, Buffy continued holding Spike. She was the last line of defense between her helpless lover and that acid-trippin' purple behemoth. And though she knew Faith and Jay were more than a match for the beast, a part of her was disappointed that she probably wouldn't get another shot at it. Cause she so wanted to plant the heel of her size six boots on the back of its neck and hear the crunch as she snapped its spine. It would have been music to her ears. 

The viciousness of her thoughts shook Buffy but she cast it aside, standing by her silent wishes. 

_After all, a Slayer's gotta have some aspirations. _

~~~

_I almost lost him, _Jay thought as she continued her assault. _Again. _

When they had come upon the scene not two minutes ago, Jay had frozen when she saw her father, helpless against the giant beast. She had been vaguely aware of her mother shouting something before running, and then Faith doing…something. But it wasn't until the latter had smacked her that Jay had batted the shock away. By that time Buffy had squared off against the beast and watching her mother wince at some unseen pain had drawn anger from Jay that she had never felt. 

That anger was currently directed at the off-balance Algolagniar. Although Jay recognized the danger it represented, her body moved with a fluid grace devoid of any fear. Her strikes were fast and precise, never giving the beast a chance to recuperate, and yet it had not fallen. In fact, if she didn't know better, Jay would have sworn that Algolagniar's swings were becoming faster with each passing second. 

"Mind if I join ya?" Faith said and flew in from the left, slashing the demon across the chest with Buffy's short sword. Jay followed up with a kick that slammed against its thigh. It swung a taloned hand at her leg but Jay moved away in time.

"Not tellin' ya how to slay, Baby J," Faith said, and slashed at the creature's other leg, "but I'd suggest usin' those pretty little daggers strapped to your waist there and make with the piñata pokin'." 

Jay blinked as Faith attacked, the blade of the short sword slicing through the air, gashing flesh and muscle. Taking a momentary breather, Jay flexed her hands, noticing a dull ache in them but it was not enough to distract her from finishing off Algolagniar. 

Pulling the blades from their sheathe, Jay jumped back into the fight. She let her blood carry her, attacking with the tenacity of a vampire. _This bastard's goin' down, _she thought as her and Faith's blades tore through the cartilage and tendons of the creature's neck. Both slayers halted their attack as Algolagniar fell to one knee. Trading wary glances, they stepped forward, intent on finishing the job. 

"So, Junior," Faith said, "wanna do the honors?" 

"Sure, why not." Transferring the blades to one hand, Jay took the short sword from Faith and stared at the fallen giant. She raised the blade slowly and, taking a deep breath, brought the blade down. 

Only to have her hand caught. She gasped in horror as the behemoth stood, its grip unbreakable. The sword fell to the ground as Jay lost feeling in her arm. She looked to Faith for help and saw the slayer fighting uselessly against the hand wrapped around her throat. 

Algolagniar stood, its grip on one slayer's throat and the other's forearm tightening. 

"Well, child," it said and chuckled mirthlessly, "looks like the table's have turned." Algolagniar squeezed and Jay screamed when she felt her arm snap. But that pain was secondary to the burn that started traveling up her arm and through her body. She wanted to drop to her knees but the hand wrapped around her arm prevented Jay from falling. 

"Not yet, child," it said and leered, "I've still got worlds of pain to show you." 

~~~

"Are we freakin' there yet?" Dawn yelled over the drone of the engine and, circumstances aside, CJ bit down on his tongue to prevent from laughing aloud. CJ shook his head and sighed inwardly when Dawn's grip tightened around his waist. Her delicate hands had driven him crazy the entire ride, caressing his abs (well, that was his story and he was stickin' to it) with wanton desire. He had to admit, however, that it may have been his overactive imagination compensating for the full-body discomfort that had only intensified at his dash home. _I gotta get a hot tub, _CJ thought, _especially if I'm gonna be hangin' around these crazy cats. _

"CJ, there it is," Dawn said and the young man turned to see the entry gates for Heberly cemetery slightly ajar. Slamming on the brakes, CJ ground the bike to a stop a few feet in from of the gates. He didn't even get a chance to put his foot to the ground, however, before Dawn was off the bike and pressing past the gate. 

"Dawn, wait!" CJ called out as he took off his helmet but by the time he looked up she was gone. The only signs that she had been there was the spinning helmet on the ground and a faint emerald mist that disappeared into the night. 

~~~

Buffy had been amazed at the fluidity and precision that her daughter and Faith fought with. Algolagniar had been off balance the entire contest and the slayer released the breath she had been holding when the creature fell to its knees. _Thank God, _she thought and turned her attention back to Spike, never imagining that her praise was quite premature. 

"Jay!" Spike yelled, astounding Buffy as he leapt to his feet. But surprise turned to horror when Buffy saw what had alarmed her lover. 

"No one moves," Algolagniar said as Buffy started to run towards it, "unless you want to watch me snap this slayer's neck." 

Both slayer and vampire stood, their bodies full of tension as they obeyed the demon's commands. Buffy saw that Faith's arms had ceased struggling and limply hung at her sides while Jay's arm was bent at an obscure angle and the latter whimpered, barely able to keep her footing. 

"It's his touch," Spike said, his blue eyes fixed on their daughter, "some wicked mojo that fires up all the pain receptors in your body. Bloody painful." 

"What do we do?" she whispered where only Spike could hear. 

"Guess is as good as mine, sweets, but we can't just sit 'ere while--" Buffy watched Spike close his eyes and sniff the air. When he opened them, a grim smile colored his features and he turned to Buffy. 

"Looks like we're bout to get rescued by the Green Ranger and her kiddie sidekick." 

Buffy frowned. "Green ranger? Spike what are you…?"

An ear splitting scream pierced the air and Buffy swung her head just in time to see her enraged kid sister jump on the back of a very surprised monster. Faith and Jay fell from its grasp and Buffy dashed forward, catching Faith's head before it hit the ground, with Spike doing the same for Jay. 

When she was sure that Jay was okay, Buffy turned her attention back to her sister, ready to jump into the fight. But when she glanced up, Buffy was amazed to see that Dawn was in…control of the fight? And glowing green? 

Shaking her head, the slayer picked up the fallen short sword and, kissing Spike on the cheek, she told him to watch over the downed slayers. He nodded begrudgingly and Buffy made her way towards Dawn and Algolagniar, glancing at a slowly rising Angel before turning all her attention on the fighting pair. 

"Nobody messes with my family," she said, and raised the sword over her head, "nobody." 

~~~

Dawn raced through the darkness with a speed that, if she were conscious of it, would have never suspected she possessed. She hurtled countless headstones with a gymnast's finesse, following the call to her blood. All her sense were hypersensitive yet nothing touched her flesh, not even the wind as soul and gazelle-like strides carried her closer to Buffy and Spike. 

_Spike, _she thought, and the fear for her best friend propelled her even faster through the cemetery. When she saw the eerily familiar back of the demon, she never slowed. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and without another thought, Dawn leapt onto the back of the unsuspecting creature. It staggered forward and she slammed her forearm into the back of its neck several times before it reached back to hoist her off. But Dawn was quicker and she vaulted over its shoulders, landing without a sound, her body coiled for battle. 

What happened next was a blur. Algolagniar sprang forward and began to attack. Its blows were fast and accurate with no quarter given. It didn't matter. Dawn was a step ahead of it, parrying each strike while delivering one of her own. She gave no thought to her seemingly newfound abilities or the others around her. It was just her and Algolagniar fighting to the death and though each hit she landed, regardless of the strength she knew was behind it, only made the creature's blows more difficult to dodge. And it was with that knowledge that she knew. 

"Stay away from my sister," Buffy screamed and slashed the sword across Algolagniar's back. The creature roared and swung its fist back at Buffy, clipping her on the arm, sending the slayer staggering backwards. Taking advantage of the lapse, Dawn pulled the dagger from her boot and slammed it into the beast's sternum with all her strength. 

A blinding light poured from the spot where silver and flesh connected and Algolagniar roared. Dawn wanted to cover her ears but she had the implicit knowledge that this was the only way to defeat it. The pain that radiated through her body was incomprehensible as she experienced Algolagniar's entire existence in mere seconds. The rest of the world became insignificant as visions clouded her mind. Visions of a past she had never known and a future she could never have conceived. It was simultaneously the most beautiful and hideous moment of her life and Dawn smiled. She felt something awaken within her, something more powerful than anyone had ever known and would ever know. In that moment, she was the All, the Only…the One. 

And just like that, the solace and tranquility was gone as light poured from her skin. It enveloped both her and Algolagniar and she joined his cacophonous yells with earsplitting shrieks of her own. Something exploded within her and before the blackness swallowed her, Dawn made out unfamiliar words being spoken with a precision that defied nature coming from her own mouth. 

~~~

The jagged throbbing in his head must have clouded his vision. Angel watched as Buffy staggered back from a glancing blow by the demon only to see Dawn ram a dagger into its chest. But it couldn't be Dawn, could it? Power radiated from her form and an iridescent emerald light crackled from where she pierced the belly of the beast. The light temporarily blinded Angel and he shielded his eyes. His hands went to his ears when the inhuman bellow shattered the air. Quickly on the heels of the creature's howl was another, more human cry of pain and confusion (and was that joy?) that sounded too much like Dawn for Angel's liking. 

Shaking the cobwebs as best he could, the vampire hobbled towards the glimmering energy, one hand covering his eyes. The closer he came the more his body was warmed by the energy rippling from off of Dawn. 

"Dawn," he called over the silent waves. Although no sound was generated, the vampire felt as if he was witnessing a hundred train wrecks all at once. The kinetic buildup was unbearable and Angel fell to his knees. His arms broke his fall, holding his body up just enough for him to brave looking into the light and when he did…

_The emotional pain he has suffered for decades lifts as unmistakable eyes stare at him. He knows who this boy, this young man, is. And though Angel knows not how it has come to pass, he does not care. Connor stands before him as a man._

_His son has been returned. _

Forgotten is the joyous message Spike has left about he and Buffy's new daughter. All that Angel sees is his own progeny, standing before him. 

He embraces the man who is a mirror image of him, save for the dirty blonde hair, a relic of his mother. Angel does not notice that Connor does not return the hug; he only knows that after years of searching and praying, he holds Connor in his arms.

He does not feel the man's body vibrate with tension, only the warmth of his flesh, the strong beat of his heart. 

He does not sense the unholy magic that flows through his son's veins; only the strength of character that is before him. 

But he does hear his son's voice, whispering to him in a language never uttered in this plane. And for the first time since he has laid eyes on Connor, Angel is wary. That is when everything comes into focus. Something is not right. 

As he pulls away and sees the maniacal gleam in his son's--his **fading **son's eyes, he knows it is too late. 

He doubles over from the pain, one that is too great to verbalize. Unseen hands hoist him up, however, casting his arms out in crucifixion. And for the first time he is able to look at his son and he screams. 

There is no feeling behind those eyes. No love. No anger. No resentment. Not even hate. There is only apathy. 

Apathy and the craving for destruction. 

"Relax, Father," Connor says, spitting out what should be an endearment as if it is the most vile word imaginable, "I will not leave again. Soon we shall be together forever." He touches Angel's chest and the decibels of the vampire's scream triples. 

There has never been anything like it before. Soul and demon, Angel and Angelus unite for the first time, screaming as they are raped of their will, shackled within their own body, slave to the will of a mad man, a destroyer. 

An Archangel. 

~~~

Multiple screams chilled Buffy's battered body but her mind was focused on her own torment. Memories that were not, could not have been her own flashed before her and she had no control over them. Her stomach ached as the worst of traumas chewed at her sanity...

__

They are nearly beaten. Angel's friends dead or dying. Willow and Tara unconscious, Giles and Spike buried in the rubble. Xander and Anya are nowhere to be seen, neither is Dawn. Angel lays in a pool of his own blood, his face battered by M'shi-Dar. And M'shi-Dar before her, laughing as he kicks a downed Faith while Buffy looks on helplessly. 

"What made you ants think you could harm me?" he says and laughs as he stalks over to Buffy. "You, Chosen One," he says and sneers, "you and yours shall know the reason that I am the Eater of Worlds."

Buffy watches as Faith rises from behind him. She holds a talisman, something that Giles had said was imperative to M'shi-Dar's defeat. Faith gives her a loving smile. 

That is when Buffy knows…

She can do nothing but watch as Faith performs the ritual--it gives the former rogue slayer the time to say goodbye but her screams as she falls into the void with M'shi-Dar will always haunt her. Just as…

__

She listens, detached as Spike relays the message. Xander and Anya; butchered. She says that she wants to see, has to know but he advises against it; he says their bodies are unrecognizable. She refuses to listen and goes to see the bodies.

The nightmares from what she sees haunts her until a new horror takes its place…

The two witches are surrounded but they have given Buffy and her family an escape. Buffy's heart shatters as Willow and Tara are overwhelmed by hordes of demons and though most die in the assault, there are too many and her last remaining friends are no more…

__

She holds the stake, tears blurring her vision as cerulean eyes pierce her soul. 

"Do it, Luv," he says, "you know it's the only way." 

"But I can't, Spike, I can't. I can't live without you…I can't kill you." She drops the stake and dissolves into his arms. 

"There now, Luv," he coos, "it will be all right." 

"How? Tell me how," she begs him. 

"Because, once we are gone, our lil girl's gonna wipe the floor with that soddin' Gabriel." 

"But Spike, how? How can I ask that of my daughter? How can I ask her to kill her mother?" 

"She knows, Buffy, we've told her…" 

"But she wouldn't listen, she won't do it!" 

"She will, Buffy, when she understands that there is no other way." He picks up the stake and lays it in her shaking hands. "Buffy Anne Summers, I love you more than life, more than death itself. Wherever I end up, you will be with me, in my spirit, in my heart, in my mind. Nothing will touch me, so long as I know you love me…" 

"I do, so much…" 

"And that you are happy with your mates. Red and Glinda, Harris and his Bird. Ripper and your Mum. They're waitin' for you, luv." Their eyes meet. "Let me rest, Buffy, let me rest." 

Her grip on the stake tightens and she raises it. Her limbs tremble but her teary eyes are determined. 

"I love you, my William," she says, "always and forever." The stake plunges into his chest, and the last picture in her mind is Spike, smiling lovingly at her…

"Noooooo!" Buffy yelled and thrashed her arms as if it would beat back the images. She fought harder when cool arms engulfed her body. Only when the dulcet voice sounded in her ear did her flailing cease. 

"There now, luv, 'twas only a nightmare," Spike said and his hands caressed the bare flesh of her arms and back. 

__

Bare back? She thought as consciousness reasserted itself. Her body still trembled but Spike's ministrations continued their soothing balm to her sanity. 

"Spike?" she whispered and her fingers lightly touched the spot right above his heart. 

"Yeah, pet?" 

She glanced up at him, the moon casting part of his face in its pale light but the other half was shrouded in shadows. 

"Where…where are we?" 

"Our room." 

"Our room?" 

"Well, um, your room, I guess. Why? Don't you remember?" 

Buffy hesitated, unsure of what had happened. The memories were fading fast and she could only recall impressions of the horrible feeling that she saw, not the actual occurrences. With a shudder she forced those thoughts away and focused on the events prior to that. There was a blinding emerald light; they were in the graveyard, fighting Algolagniar when…

"Dawn," she said and tried to twist out of Spike's grip but the vampire held fast. 

"No, luv, can't let you do that." 

"Spike, get off me," she said and tried to push him off, only to find her strength was vastly lacking. But that was second to the condition of her sister. 

"The 'bit's fine," he said, and stroked her sweat dampened hair, "just got 'er back to sleep. Worryin' bout you she was." 

"She's…she's okay?" 

"A bit knackered 's all. Just like the rest of us." 

"Angel…?"

"The poof's fine," Spike muttered, "under the tender love an' care of the cheerleader I suppose." On Buffy's look, Spike rolled his eyes. "Other's 're fine, too." 

"What…what happened?" Spike shrugged. 

"Don't rightfully know. Bit came to our rescue, did some Key-type mojo and, Bob's yer Uncle, Big Bad Barney's no more. Ev'ryone's a bit knackered, though so Rupes suggested we all get some sleep, suss it out in the mornin'."

"So the purple dinosaur…it's gone?"

"Terminated," he said in a horrible Austrian accent that elicited a chuckle from Buffy. 

"You are a dope, you know that, don't you?" 

"But 'm your dope," he said, and smiled sweetly. 

Buffy nearly cried at the beautiful person before her. His eyes shone with love and the smile, devoid of any shields, was a rare one. Buffy wanted to cherish this vision before her and she cupped his cheek with one hand and caught his gaze. 

"You are, you know that? Mine. And I'm yours." 

"Are you?" he asked and she winced at the hurt and bitterness in his tone. 

"Spike, there is no one else for me. Not an Angel, not a Riley…no one." She smiled serenely and slapped him playfully across the cheek. "You're stuck with me forever, bucko." 

His baritone chuckle thrummed across her flesh and Buffy leaned against her lover as he stretched out next to her, enveloping her in his arms. "I could think of a lot worse fates than that, luv," he said and though all the doubt was not gone from his voice, Buffy was thankful that he was nearly back to normal. 

"So, you sure Dawnie's okay?" she said after a few moments of silence. 

Spike sighed dramatically. "Will you shush that pretty lil mouth of yours, slayer. Bit's fine. Peaches is fine, CJ's fine, Faith's fine, we're all fine." 

"You don't have to get all shirty about it," she mumbled and poked her bottom into him. 

Spike groaned but refrained from assaulting her, though the erection that poked her nude butt sent delicious thoughts of anticipation through her mind. "'Shirty', luv? Looks like someone's been readin' up on their British slang." 

"What can I say," she said and burrowed deeper into his arms, "I'm in love with the English undead." 

"And don't you forget it." Buffy laughed and took comfort in the strength that engulfed her petite form. Her worries cast aside, she began to drift into unconsciousness until movement slapped her awake. 

"Spike," she said and sat up, an edge of panic in her voice, "what are you doin'?" 

"Relax, luv," he said and he pulled the curtains closed, "jus' didn't want you wakin up to a big pile of dust." He chuckled but there was nothing funny about it and when he crawled back under the covers, Buffy ravaged his lips with a bruising kiss. Her hands trailed desperately over his chest and her nails bit into his flesh. Her heart raced and relief coursed through her veins at the physical verification of his presence. Forcing air into her lungs, Buffy broke away from Spike and turned away from him, pulling his arm across her body. She sensed his confusion and frustration but he did not press and Buffy was glad. Rarely had she thought this hard about Spike dying, of him being dusted, well, at least not with such clarity. But something...something she couldn't quite grasp nagged at her and Buffy wanted nothing more than to sweep it away. And as sleep claimed her, Buffy shivered once more at the thought that she had seen something terrible happen and that it was gonna happen to Spike and she couldn't stop. 

And when it finally did come, things between them would never be the same. 

****

A/N: _We're about at the half way point now. The Big Bad Barney's been taken care of so what's next for the gang in the interim? How about fun, frolicking and first dates (plural!) Hmmm…wonder what that means? Well, you'll find out soon enough. _


	23. Intermittent Frequencies

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 23 

__

Intermittent Frequencies

****

May 20th, 2002

Late Afternoon 

The Summers' living room was once more filled with the entire gang, including new additions. For the last hour they had been going over the events from the night before. Giles sat in a kitchen chair, scribbling notes at a furious pitch as the witnesses for last night's scene in the graveyard told their stories. 

Buffy, sitting on Spike's lap in the recliner, had just finished her account of things, skimming over the exact details of her dreams from earlier in the day. It had been something she and Spike had discussed in the morning's light, and she had been grateful that he had her back, suggesting she not disclose the visions, especially in front of such a large contingent of people, regardless of their ties to her. 

Leaning her head into the crook of her lover's neck, Buffy surveyed the room. Faith and Jay leaned on opposite sides of the room, not unlike they had in the kitchen the day before. Xander kneeled just in front of Faith, and every so often his hand would brush against the brunette slayer's leg. Buffy hid the smile that threatened to surface at the gesture, knowing that Xander was most likely unaware of his behavior and, considering the blush that tinged Faith's cheeks, she was _well _aware of it. 

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, Buffy's eyes wandered across the others. Willow and Tara were huddled on the couch along with Dawn and Cordelia. CJ sat on the arm with his hands tucked neatly in his lap. Every so often he would glance towards her and Spike, and each time, he seemed to scoot just a mite further away. _Good, _she thought, _keep your hands to yourself. _It wasn't that Buffy disliked CJ; in fact, there was something about him that was honest and good. But she was well aware of how danger could draw two people together and things could happen in the heat of the moment that wouldn't happen otherwise (exhibits A & B: her first times with Angel and Spike). Despite her beliefs that CJ's intentions were all well and good, Buffy had resolved to have a sisterly talk with Dawn before she and CJ went out on their first date, something that Buffy knew was inevitably near. 

_Speaking of Angel, _Buffy thought, and her eyes fell to her former lover. He stood closest to the front door, firmly ensconced in the shadows with his arms crossed as he watched Giles write. His brown eyes drifted to Buffy and, when their gazes met, they both smiled. Although he was still weirded out by the whole Spike cuddleage (and Buffy could admit she wasn't to keen on his Cordelia lovin'--at least that was what it was, according to Spike) they had started to accept their new relationships, with each other as well as with their new paramours. She wasn't sure if they would ever get over the awkwardness of it all, but they were definitely starting to deal. 

Spike's lips on her forehead brought Buffy back to herself and the slayer snuggled deeper into her lover's embrace, oblivious to the others in the room. Buffy still amazed herself that she could be like this with anyone, let alone Spike. Since waking from her coma, Buffy felt that if she wasn't touching Spike, one of them would drift away, get lost in the red tape of how 'wrong' their relationship truly was. In a way, it reminded her of their brief f engagement during Willow's little soiree with having one's will be done. Regardless of the vehement protests then, they hadn't cared to what the Scoobies thought and it was the same now.

"Still with us, luv?" Spike whispered, and Buffy shivered. The tickle of his breath against her flesh traveled through her body and certain parts of the slayer awakened, pleading for a particular bleached blonde to quench the rising fires. 

"Yeah, I'm all with the still being with," she replied breathlessly, and her hand trailed up and down Spike's sides. 

"I suggest you not do too much of that, luv," he murmured, " 'less you want your mates to witness an intimate portrayal of how to shag a slayer properly." 

"Behave." 

"You know you like it when I'm bad to the--" he glanced down at his lap and, with a nearly invisible jiggle of his hips (_how _he did that, she had no idea) finished, "bone." 

But before Buffy could reply with a whimper of desire or admonishment, Giles voice broke through the haze. 

"So, is that it?" 

"Is what, what?" Buffy said, and lifted her head up. All eyes turned on her, and she was unable to curtail the fiery blush that crept up across her neck and cheeks. 

"Is there anything else anyone would like to add concerning the events of last night? Anything left out?" 

"Notta thing, Rupes," Spike said, and ran his fingers soothingly across Buffy's spine. 

"Well, to be sure, I shall go over this once more. I'll try to keep this brief: 

"Spike and Angel ran into this demon, who, according to CJ, goes by the name of Algolagniar. At present, CJ does not recall how he and the demon were acquainted." Giles glanced at CJ. 

"That's right," the younger man responded. 

"This beast, from what we have surmised, fed off pain; either his or others. The greater the pain, the more his strength grew."

"Kinda like a super saiyan," Xander said, and on everyone's curious gazes, he lowered his head, muttering something about deprived people. Despite the non-sequitor, Buffy smiled. It was something the old Xander would have said and to have him say it now gave her hope that the solemn man she had been around for the last few days would give way to her old friend. 

"Even when you three arrived, Buffy, Faith shooting the creature in the eye with an arrow had not the ill effects one would have suspected. In fact, as Faith and Jay attacked, despite it being two slayers, this Algolagniar gained the upper hand.

"That is, until Dawn entered the fray. Now Dawn, unlike the others, you say that when you struck his flesh, you felt no ill effects." 

"Correct," the young girl replied, "ill effect-free." 

"Even today, you fill no discomfiture?" 

"Nope." 

"I see. Now, when you stabbed him with the dagger, can you explain again what happened, what you felt, if anything at all." 

Buffy watched her sister fidget, one hand playing with her long brown hair while the other picked at her shorts. Although she didn't quite remember what happened last night, from what Spike said, and Dawn's earlier recollection, it was quite the light show. 

"I…it was weird," Dawn said, and Buffy turned her attention back to the young girl. "Spike gave me the dagger last summer. And last night, before I climbed out the window, something told me to bring it." 

"Do you know what that was?" Giles asked. 

"No…well, yeah, I guess. It was kinda like this thing, you know, when you feel someone's watching you. But instead of something watching me, I felt that something was calling my name. Somehow I knew it was Ms. Sharpie." 

"Ms. Sharpie?" several voices called out as one. 

Dawn ducked her head sheepishly. "It was Spike's idea." 

On the incredulous glares, Spike shifted uncomfortably, moving closer into Buffy. "So? The Slayer's got 'er Mr. Pointy, why can't the 'Bit 'ave something o' her own?" 

"It's okay, sweetie," Buffy whispered, and kissed him on the cheek. "And we _will _talk about arming my little sister like she was Xena."

"Yes, well," Giles said. Readjusting his glasses, he looked back down at the notes. "So you were called to Ms. Shar…the dagger, and took it. Did it also call to you when you were fighting this Algolagniar?" 

"I don't know if it called or anything like that, because I really didn't think much about it." 

"Like it was instinct," Faith supplied. 

"Yeah," Dawn said. 

"Do you think it was like a slayer's instinct to stake vamps?" Jay asked. 

Dawn shrugged. "I don't know. I guess so." 

"And the energy that poured from you and into the demon?" 

"That was kind of like instinct, too, but I knew--"

"Knew what?" Willow asked. 

"I--I don't know. It's like I knew that this was the way, the only way to kill it." 

"And how do you think you accessed the power?" Tara asked. "Did it happen automatically or did you have to do something?" 

"Do something?" 

"Yeah," CJ said, "like flex a muscle." 

"Or arch an eyebrow," Cordelia said. 

"Not to be a smart arse--" Spike started. 

"Like that'll ever happen," the seer quipped. 

"--but arching an eyebrow? It involves muscles, pet." 

"Whatever," the seer snorted and turned her attention back to Dawn. "So? Was it like that?" 

"It was…I don't know. It was more than just knowing, or having a feeling, you know?" 

"How do you mean, 'Bit?" 

Dawn was silent for a minute. She glanced from Angel to Spike and back again. "Do you guys remember what it was like that first time you…" she trailed off and lowered her eyes. Buffy watched in confusion as Angel turned his head and Spike studied the carpet. It took her several seconds before she understood what Dawn was getting at. 

"The first time they--" 

"Fed," Angel said, speaking up for the first time since the conversation began. 

"Yeah, I remember it," Spike muttered, never lifting his eyes from the floor. " 'S overwhelming, the bloodlust. Your blood boils with need, and you don't know wha' you want--"

"And yet," Angel chimed in, "you do. It's something that calls to the demon and it knows what is needed." 

"So it's like instinct," Buffy said. 

"Yes and no," Spike replied. 

Buffy saw the two vampires trade glances of understanding before Angel spoke up again. "He means that while it is instinctual on a certain level, it's also something else, something beyond natural and supernatural." 

"You know," Cordelia said, "you guys really sound like Wesley with all the crypto-speak. Could you please translate it into English for all us not-creatures-of-the-night?" 

"I think that's what they mean," Dawn said. "There's really no way to describe it, or for anyone else to understand it." She looked at Faith, Jay and Buffy in order. "I guess you guys know, sorta. Maybe when you know who's a vampire just by looking." 

"Yeah, but that's sorta like the instinct thing," Buffy said, and she heard the uncertainty in her voice. 

"But it's something else, too, B," Faith said. "Like a connection--"

"With everything," Jay finished. "I really don't think I can explain it, though." 

"Me neither," Buffy agreed. 

"So," Giles said, and turned back to Dawn, "it was something you couldn't control?"

"I'm not sure. I think it was more that I knew how much I needed and let it go at that."

"Which brings me to my next question," Giles said, and his eyes returned to his notes. "Everyone that was present has said that after Dawn had released this energy, they all had some sort of visions." 

Silence slammed through the room and Buffy burrowed further into Spike's embrace. His arms tightened around her and he let out a shaky breath. When Buffy glanced at the others who had been there--Faith, Jay, and Angel--all wore haunted looks. Part of her was relieved that she had not been along in seeing horrors but the other part of her was ashamed to feel that way. 

"Now," Giles said, "although all of you have declined to discuss these dreams with me, and I accept your reticence to do so, I must insist that you write them down and give them to me." 

"We're not in school, Rupes," Spike said grumpily, " 'S not book report day."

"Be that as it may, Spike, but your visions may prove vital information on what it is that we have to face." 

"He's right," Buffy said. She stroked Spike's cheek, settling him before he could explode. Although they had discussed what she had seen, Spike hadn't been so forth coming. And though Buffy was disappointed that he hadn't, she respected his wishes and wouldn't push. For now, at least. "We can do that, Giles." 

"Thank you, Buffy. Now, until I examine what you have to say about the dreams, I cannot be certain as to why Buffy was the only one effected as she was. How do you feel now, Buffy?" 

The slayer rolled her eyes, annoyed at the tenth rendition of the same question. "I'm fine guys. Slayer here, remember, not much I haven't been exposed to." 

"Yeah, Buff," Xander said, "but we just want to be sure."

"Getting that; got it. Have it wrapped up and folded in my back pocket for later use." She sighed. "I'm fine, okay. Honestly." 

Everyone nodded and Giles returned to his notes. When he started talking again Buffy tuned him out, instead focusing her energies on Spike and the calming effect his proximity had on her. Yeah, she told the gang that she was okay, and though they doubted her, only Spike knew the depths of her not-okayness. She knew he wanted to speak up but certain declarations of love coupled with the promises of sexual favors (as well as the less exciting, less glamorous idea of telling 'Watcher man' the absolute truth later) bought her lover's silence. And that was exactly how Buffy wanted it. She wasn't sure if she was ready to tell everyone that she felt that everything she had worked for all these years was about to be torn from her.

_I'll deal later, _she told herself, and shivered once more. After what she had seen, and what now resonated in her bones, Buffy knew that dealing was the furthest stretch from the truth. There was no 'dealing' with what she say, what she now felt--merely surviving it. And as tough as she was, Buffy Summers had the distinct feeling that after all was said and done, surviving would be the last thing that she wanted. 

~~~

"So," CJ said, and glanced over at Dawn, "is this how you guys spend all your afternoons?" 

"Nope," she said, and ran her fingers against the concrete steps they sat on, "usually we save the deep apocalypse talk for the evening. Cuts down on the insomnia." 

"Ah, I see." CJ's eyes fell back to the evening beginning to unveil itself over Revello Drive. The rest of the afternoon had been spent with Giles going over the accounts for last night while the others had written down their individual experiences for the Watcher to evaluate. He and Dawn had spent the time conversing with Willow, Tara, and Cordelia. Although the latter had been quite blunt, the two Wiccas had made up for the discomfort the seer had created. Still, said unease was nothing compared to the willies that slithered up his back each time he glanced at cold blue eyes that watched his every movement. Other than the purple giant that kicked his ass the night before, CJ had rarely been afraid of anything in his life, but the unwavering gaze from the platinum blonde had unnerved the night vigilante more than he cared to admit. 

"Your sister's boyfriend is scary." Okay, so admitting it to Dawn was a little different. 

"Who, Spike?" Dawn waved her hand carelessly in front of her. "Spike's a pussy cat." On CJ's incredulous glare, she shrugged. "Okay, so he can be a bit terrifying." 

"Terrifying? Dawn, sweetie, I've been fighting demons for the last seven years. I've gotten my ass kicked plenty of times, one of which happened to be last night, and I don't know if I've ever seen eyes that 'grrrrrrrrrr' before." 

Dawn lowered her head and CJ noticed the faint tint of blush that crept up her cheeks. 

"Hey," he said, and grabbed her chin between his fingers, turning her face towards him. "What's up?" 

"You…it, it was nothing." 

"Dawn…" 

"So you've been fighting demons since you were twelve?" she asked, and though he knew she was changing the subject, he'd let it go for now. Besides, this had been something he had wanted to tell her from the start. 

"Yeah. Born in New Jersey, moved to Cleveland when I was eleven. Saw my first vamp the third week there, killed my first two months later." 

"So, were you living out some type of kid fantasy?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, were you insane? Twelve years old and going after a vampire." 

"You could say that," CJ said. "I don't know, I guess it was just instinct. I knew what to do and I did it." 

"But why did you take that chance? I would have been packing it in the opposite direction." 

CJ shrugged. "I don't know, just felt like something I was supposed to do."

"So, did you have any backup up or were you Joe Solo?" 

"Never been one to work with others, so yeah, I went by myself." 

"You are an idiot, you know that, don't you. If you weren't so cute I'd…" Dawn covered her mouth when she realized what she had said. CJ couldn't help but smirk. 

"So you think I'm cute, huh?" He watched at the embarrassment gave way to defiance and stifled the laughter that was formulating in his chest. 

"So, hey, yeah, what--why did you guys move to Sunnydale?" The once friendly atmosphere dissipated and CJ felt the bitterness of the past creep back into his soul. 

"CJ?" Dawn asked, and touched his arm. The young man pulled away instinctively. The hurt look in Dawn's eyes had an immediate effect, and CJ pulled her hand in his. 

"Sorry, D," he said, "it's not you that I--it's just something I don't like talking about." 

"Hey, no big," she said cheerfully but her voice said quite the opposite. "You don't have to tell me--" 

"My mother died a little over a year ago. No, she didn't die, she was murdered." He heard the gasp next to him but couldn't face her. The pain and guilt at finding his mother's violated corpse was something that never went away. And CJ knew that one look into Dawn's brilliant obsidian eyes and he would break down just as he did when he had told Aunt Jackie.

"Was it…was it…" Dawn stuttered. 

"Vampires? Yes and no." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Unlike what I've seen here, the human criminal element takes advantage of what they are provided. Demons are often hired as private muscle. They'd do a bit of torturing for the humans, get the message across. I was getting pretty close to finding out who was giving the orders on one of the major cartels, if you will. Guess they wanted to send me a message." 

"They had your mother killed," Dawn whispered, and there was no missing the horror in her words. 

"Not…not right away," he said, hating that his voice was faltering. "They did…other things to her first and--and made sure I'd find the body." 

"CJ…" Dawn said and moved to give him a hug. Shaking his head, CJ stood and put some distance between them. 

"I'm sorry, Dawn, but I can't let you do that." 

"Why not?" 

"Because," he said, and inhaled deeply, "if I do, then I won't be able to stop crying." 

He watched Dawn lower her head, her dark hair falling over her face. Cursing his insensitivity, CJ bent down in front of Dawn and lifted her chin up. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and he thought he saw traces of an emerald glow in the irises. His gaze was quickly distracted, however, drawn to her quivering lips. Taking a moment to control his conflicting emotions, CJ cupped Dawn's cheek and brushed his lips across hers. 

The effect was immediate for both of them. A warmth that defied all logic surged through CJ, washing away the painful memories of the past. He ran his hand through Dawn's hair, pulling her closer when her moan punctuated the entrance of his tongue into her mouth and one hand caressed the velvety flesh of her leg. Everything inside of him screamed to take her; it was as if his very life depended on this young girl in front of him. 

As the thoughts of his desires took form in his mind, CJ's hands became more insistent. They roved over her back and hips, bunching her shirt out of the way. He was in need to touch her, all of her, at once. Falling to his knees, he nudged her legs apart, and pulled her against his chest. She jumped, and for a brief moment CJ thought he had hurt her; but when she wrapped her arms around his neck, he knew that wasn't the case. Besides…

_"You love me too much to hurt me." _

The sound of the voice in his ears was enough to bring CJ back to his senses. He pushed Dawn away gently and held her at arms' length. Her black pupils had dilated, and her eyes were nothing but giant pools of lust. Taking several steadying breaths, CJ cleared his throat to speak. 

"Wow," Dawn said. 

CJ laughed dryly. "Yeah, wow." 

"Of course, I think that deserved a little bit more than 'wow', don't you?" 

"Umm, I'd say that's an affirmative. That was past wow in a major way." 

"You can say that again." 

"I would," he said, "but the lack of blood flow to my brain has simplified my abilities to express the wow-ness of that." 

"Lack of blood fl--" Dawn's eyes bulged and she glanced down at his lap, quickly covering her face at the discovery. "Ohmygod, tell me I did not just see that." 

Some of CJ's poise returned at Dawn's embarrassment and he peeled her hands away from her face. "Hey, baby, don't hide. Nothing to be ashamed of." 

"So say you," she mumbled, but her lips curved into the beginnings of a smile. 

"Seriously though, I didn't mean to be so forward with the…well, with the everything." 

"Ah, no big," Dawn said. "What girl doesn't like to be ravaged on her front porch while her sister, extremely overprotective best friend, and sister's friends are inside." 

CJ sighed. "I really hope that Spike doesn't decide to come out here right now." 

"Well, if you're so worried, then maybe you should, I don't know, step away from between my…" she trailed off, and glanced down. 

"Oh, yeah, sure," he said, and stood. He turned his back to her and adjusted his jeans. 

"Better?" 

"Much," he said and faced her again. CJ basked in the smile that Dawn gave him but he didn't miss the question in her eyes. Not wanting to ruin things with inadequate words, he ignored her silent query and enveloped her in a hug. 

"I think I better go." 

Dawn pouted. "Already?" 

"Yeah. Aunt Jackie's probably worried about me, even if I did call her this morning. You know how family gets sometimes." 

"Tell me about." Dawn lowered her gaze, intently studying her sneakers as they kicked at several invisible pebbles. "So, are you gonna be around any time soon?" 

"Probably not for a few days," he said, and on her downcast face, he amended, "but I will call. And maybe we could go out next weekend." 

CJ's heart sped up at the naked hope that shone from Dawn's face. "Really?" 

"Yeah, really. That is, if you want to."

"If I want to? Of course I--" she trailed off and slipped on a mask of indifference. "I mean, I guess that would be okay." 

"Just okay?" he teased. 

"Well, really can't comment on it until the day comes, now can I?" 

"I guess." He glanced at his watch. "Well, I best get goin'." 

"Yeah." 

"I'll probably stay in tonight, hang out with my aunt." 

"Well, Ms. Dawn Summers will no doubt be getting the lecture on sneaking out and jumping on the backs of grotesque demons without sister's permission." 

"They really can't say much. You did save the day." 

"Shows you don't know my sister." 

"Will Spike be in on it, too?" 

"No doubt. But I can handle him. One Summers' pout and he'll crack. Unfortunately, that particular weapon works not on big sis, or British man with glasses."

"It could always be worse." 

"How?" 

"You could have a scary ass vampire watching you from the door, with murder written in his eyes." 

"Huh?" CJ nudged his head in the direction of the steps, and when Dawn turned around, she gasped at the menacing glare Spike was giving CJ. 

"Spike? What are you doing?" Dawn shrieked. 

"Just about to ask you the same thing, 'Bit." 

"We were just talkin'," CJ said, and offered the vampire his most friendly smile. 

"Don't think I was talkin' to you, _sir. _And besides, my nose tells me different."

"Huh?" CJ asked, miffed, but by Dawn's horrified expression, she knew exactly what Spike meant. 

"Well, don't you have to get home to your aunt?" Dawn asked hurriedly, pushing CJ towards the driveway. "I'll be she's worried sick about you. Shame on you, CJ for not getting there sooner. Make sure you tell her you're sorry and get some rest while you're at it, too. Bye bye!" she finished excitedly. She glanced over her shoulder and then whispered, "Call me tomorrow," before running up the steps and past the vampire. 

CJ's eyes locked on the vampire's unreadable gaze and shivered. Yesterday he had not been afraid of this man, even when he found that Spike was indeed a vampire. But there was something about those blue eyes that held a love for Dawn and Buffy that CJ had rarely seen. And while he didn't know too much about Spike's history, CJ did know that if he did anything to hurt Dawn, Spike would be on his ass quick, fast, and in a hurry. Knowing that whatever retributions Spike would take out on him would be done out of love and not cruelty was the scariest thing of all. 

Shaking the thoughts aside, CJ started the bike and backed out of the driveway. He gave Spike a perfunctory salute before gunning the engine, and zipping down the street. His ride home was uneventful, filled with thoughts of Dawn's warm body in his arms and the knot that formed in his stomach every time he saw her. There was something magnetic about that girl, something he couldn't put his finger on. He had felt it today, and he had sure as hell felt it last night when light had poured through the cemetery. He hadn't told anyone but, in one instant, all the questions CJ ever had, about himself and his attraction to Dawn had been answered with a crystal clarity. He had known what she had done for him, and why. He knew it all. 

It sucked balls that mere seconds after all that knowledge had been gained it had disappeared, leaving the young man at square one. 

It didn't matter, he thought as he pulled into his aunt's driveway. It would eventually come back to him. All he had to do was wait. And CJ could be a patient man, as long as something warranted it. 

Finding out where all the déjà vu's of his life had come from was number two on the waiting list. Number one, of course, was seeing where this thing with Dawn went. 

And that was something he was dying to find out. 

~~~

She lay in his arms, her supernatural warmth bathing his cold flesh until it nearly resembled normal body temperature. Her hair splayed across his chest in a curly rainbow of blue, purple, red, green and orange. Every so often, she would exhale, spilling unnecessary breaths against him. It was so human that, at times Gabriel forgot just what Morrigann was. 

The vampiric warlock brushed his fingertips against the raised wings of her back, and he watched as they fettered restlessly under his caress. Morrigann mumbled contentedly in her sleep and Gabriel chuckled. Sleep, just as her many other human gestures, always cast Morrigann in a different light. She was like a child when she rested, often times pouting when the covers were removed, or the simple peace that claimed her lovely face as she slept. Never had he ever seen her so disarmed awake. It was in her nature to be the seducer and every waking moment she carried a part of that, even in the most innocent of displays.

"You are lovely, my dear," he whispered, and the succubus cuddled further into his embrace. Yes, Morrigann was beautiful; more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen. It was a preternatural magnificence, one that would have all but the strongest willed humans bowing at her feet. And though the sheer sight of her was enough to bring most into her servitude, a sample of her blood to any creature would tie it to her for as long as she wished. It had been this reason that Gabriel had forbade the others to bed her. Oh, she was more than willing to offer herself, especially to the stoic Frost, yet Gabriel felt no jealousy. True, she was his lover and they both shared a love of power, but that was where the ties ended. He was not some sniveling mate that would become enraged at his woman's infidelity. Gabriel understood all too clearly that to have such an emotional tie to someone would only lead to one's downfall. Seth was a perfect example of that. 

Seth. Still, after this time, the thought of his wayward Childe caused a pang of grief to resonate within Gabriel. Seth had been the strongest vampire to ever walk the Earth, granted the eternal kiss by Gabriel himself. Seth had remained loyal throughout, many times questioning but never straying too far from his master's will. Oh, Gabriel knew that imbuing one such as Seth the power of near invulnerability was risky; if he had so desired Gabriel had no doubt that Seth could have raised an army against him to grasp control of the world that Gabriel now owned. But he never did. Seth kept his aspirations to more direct things such as blood and torture…and Emerald. 

The dark-haired man shivered at the thought of his Empress. True, they were not lovers in the physical sense but the power they shared went beyond all carnal sensations. That was not to say that Gabriel did not wonder what it would be like to embrace her in all senses of the word but he knew that she would never capitulate. As much as Emerald tried to hide it, Gabriel was no fool. She was just as in love with Seth as he was with her. The first time she had brought the still human Seth before him, Gabriel knew that they were lovers. And though their trysts were greatly reduced once Seth had been turned, every so often Emerald would retire to her chamber, reeking of sex and…and love. It had been for this reason that Gabriel often sent his chief lieutenant to the farthest reaches of the land. Gabriel still could not fathom why he had felt his first twinges of jealousy at his Childe for the ability to hold the love of someone so great as…

"Emerald!" Gabriel yelled, and spasmed in the bed. He was vaguely aware of a now fully alert Morrigann searching the room for intruders, but most of his attention was drawn to the pulsating link that tore into him as it ignored all precepts of temporal limitations. He watched as the creature was consumed, invaded by the green essence of the One. It ripped Algolagniar to shreds, rending demon heart, muscle, and even conscience into nothing but particles of dust and ash. It was unlike anything Gabriel had ever seen, and though the true display of it was frightening, the understanding of what had occurred wrested the fear to the ground. Yes…

"Gabriel, Gabriel," a distant voice said, and his head rocked to the side as a hand slapped him across the face. He heard his name again and the unmistakable windup of another blow aimed for his jaw. He caught Morrigann's hand reflexively and forced his eyes open. He was unable to focus on her in detail but could make out the apprehension that radiated from her flesh. 

He raised a tentative hand to her face and caressed the sweet curve of her jaw line. The smile that split his face was tinged with an edge of insanity, he knew, but it also contained the knowledge that soon, all would be his. 

"The tear has been procured. Algolagniar did not fail." 

Morrigann smiled and the curve of her upturned lips brought a shiver of anticipation to Gabriel. "Then it is almost time." 

"Yes," he said, and his other hand found her waist, "it is." Without warning, he slung her to her back and parted her legs. Morrigann gasped as he entered her in one violent thrust. 

"More," she pled as he moved into her like a piston, "please, more." 

"Oh you will have the more that you crave, my succubus," he said in jagged gasps, "and so shall I." 

All other words were forgotten, and the two creatures of the night lost themselves in the carnal pleasures of the flesh. 

Next: **First Date…**


	24. First Date

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 23

__

First Date

A/N: This is the correct chapter number. Accidentally put '23' for the last chappie. 

****

May 26th, 2002

Early Afternoon

"I sorry," Faith said, "I don't think I heard you right." 

Xander smiled and stroked his trimmed beard. The past few days had been uneventful in terms of a big bad, but it had given him a chance to interact with Faith. The two of them had gone on patrol every night, splitting the duties with Spike, Buffy and Jay. Patrols had been uneventful and he and Faith had gotten to know one another; they'd even shared a steamy after-patrol kiss the night before that the Newlyweds (everyone's term for Spike and Buffy) had broken up. That had been an end to the potential festivities for the night and the two had gone their separate ways. It had taken Xander several hours to get to sleep, unable to push the jasmine scent of Faith's hair and raspberry tang of her lips from his mind. It wasn't until he had resolved to do something about it instead of have fanciful dreams that he fell into a fitful rest. 

So here he was, carrying out his late night resolution, amidst a pile of laundry in the basement and ignoring the butterflies that danced in his belly. 

"You heard me right," he replied, and gave the slayer his best smirk. 

"Well, spell it out for me again. You know I dropped out of high school." 

"Faith," he said, and took her hand (was she shaking?), "will you go out with me tonight? On a date." 

The brunette's eyes widened at his question and for a moment, Xander thought she would say no. That is, until her face split into the most radiant smile he had ever seen. 

"You bet your sweet Paul Bunyan ass I will," she said, and bit her lip, embarrassed. "Uh, that would be a yes." 

"So I gathered," he smiled. He dropped her hand and the familiar jitters of what to do next filtered through the room. Xander's eyes traveled between Faith and his own boots, and he refrained from the urge to push her against the wall and kiss her senseless. 

Surprisingly to him, that same nervousness was plastered all over Faith's beautiful face. She wasn't one to show unease and this new part of her, the part he'd been acquainting himself with over the last week, was a welcome addition to her already impressive repertoire. 

"So," she said, and kicked at the rug, "we gonna make out like a couple teenagers or do you wanna wait till after the date?" 

"Well, we could wait…"

"Of course, there was the whole Buffy-interrupto last night…" 

"True, damn true." 

Their eyes lowered to the concrete floor of the basement before their gazes locked, mischief gleaming in two sets of brown eyes. "Make out!" they said in unison and closed the distance between them. After that, all thoughts of laundry were gone. 

~~~

****

Mid-Afternoon

"You are _not _wearing that, missy," Buffy said to the lanky teen in front of her.

"Why not?" Dawn pouted. 

"Aside from the fact that I said so? Hmmm, let me think; it's too short, Spike could go on a homicidal rage and kill your date, and, yeah, it's too short." 

"You wore shorter skirts than this when you were my age." 

"Perks of being the elder sibling," Buffy replied, and nodded in satisfaction when Dawn stomped back to the closet. 

"You're just jealous cause I'm taller than you," the teen said over her shoulder, but Buffy ignored the barb. Instead, she concentrated on the coming night. Her little sister, former brat Dawn Summers, was going out on her first date. It was something that, after their Mom died; Buffy had never given thought to. Hell, she didn't know how she'd help Dawn make it to that period much less give thought to her dating. But they had made it. With the help of the Scoobies and Spike, Dawn had continued her journey to womanhood, even while Buffy had been gone. And it seemed that since the resurrection, Buffy had watched Dawn age with a frightening rapidity. 

"How about this?" Dawn asked. Buffy regarded her sister's next choice; a pair of white Capri's with a matching white tank; she held Buffy's white jacket, too, which was a perfect complement. Buffy thought to the purity that white symbolized and knew that, despite Dawn's experiences with the darkest things imaginable, she was just that; pure. Yes, her mother and sister had both died, but Dawn had yet to be tainted by the heartbreak of losing a lover and that was something Buffy hoped her little sister never experienced. 

"Perfect," Buffy whispered, unable to keep the hitch out of her voice. She walked over to Dawn and gave her a spontaneous hug.

"Buffy?" Dawn asked. "Are you okay?" 

"Just fine, Dawnie," the slayer replied, wiping at her eyes, "just fine." 

~~~

****

Early Evening

Spike hated that Saturday night twilight time. It wasn't about being stuck in the house because, hello, twilight. And it wasn't 

that demons generally refused to appear en masse till about ten or eleven. 

No, it was the fact that there was bugger all on in the way of televised entertainment.

"Bloody hell," he murmured and he flipped through the channels with the foreboding certainty that absolutely nothing of value would be on for the next hour and a half. 

"You know," Jay said from her curled up position on the couch, magazine in hand, "you really should really think about other forms of entertainment, such as reading." 

"Sure thing, Bitlet," he replied, "toss me that Cosmo why don't ya. Maybe I can get the scope on that Sarah Gellar chit and that poof of a hubbie of hers." 

"Sounds like someone's jealous," she sung and turned the page. 

"Of that Prinze bloke?" He asked incredulously. "Give your Da some credit. There's no reason I should be jealous of that pillock. 'Sides, the last several hairstyles he 'as seriously puts him in contention for his own _Queer as Folk _show." 

"Freddie Prinze is _not _gay, Daddy. Geez Louise." 

Spike sat up in the chair and studied his daughter with wide eyes. For several seconds, she was unaware of Spike's gaze and frowned into the magazine. Finally, she turned annoyed eyes at her father. "What?" 

"Sorry, 'let," Spike said, shaking his head, "but for a moment there, thought you said 'Geez Louise'. Must've been my mistake." He stifled a laugh when her face lit up with a blush. 

"Yeah," she said, "your mistake." Spike chuckled at her embarrassment but his mirth quickly trailed off as he regarded his daughter with serious eyes. 

In the months that she had been there, Jay had changed drastically. It wasn't as much physical as it was emotionally, though there was definite changes in the former. For one, her once short hair now hung past her shoulders though it was often bunched in a sloppy ponytail. The scars that adorned her body had faded, thanks to Willow, Tara and Dawn. They had done their best to lessen the marks and, aside from a handful of indentations (one being the still visible jagged line down the side her face) she was flawless. 

But it was her attitude that had been altered most of all. She had opened up to them, displaying the entire range of her emotions. She was confident and sarcastic, caring and understanding and quite easy on the eyes; she definitely took after her parents in a variety of ways, including her self-doubt. 

"Bitlet?" 

"Yeah?" she returned, never looking up from the magazine. 

"Why don't you ever go out?" 

At Spike's question, she glanced over at him. "I do go out. With the wonderful Wiccas, with Dawnie and Mum. Even went shopping with Faith the other day." 

Spike smiled. Oh, he remembered her and Faith returning with an armful of shopping bags that contained some truly less than covering articles of clothing. "Not what I meant, luv." Spike sighed, the irony of what he was about to ask her not lost on him. "Why don't you date?" The surprise in her face was something he'd rarely seen on her and if he weren't paying attention, the flit of shame would have gone unnoticed.

"Just really don't feel like it," she said evasively, and returned her eyes back to the magazine. 

Spike turned the television off and tossed the remote onto the floor. He stood and made his way over to the couch with careful strides. Jay started to shrink within herself when he took a seat and the vampire frowned at her distance. 

"Faith, sweetie," he said, and his fingers grazed her shoulder. Thankfully, she didn't pull away. "What is it?" 

The young woman shrugged. "I just…I just don't feel…" 

"Don't feel what?" 

She closed the magazine and tossed it on the coffee table. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and Spike smiled at the image before him; it was a free glimpse of what she probably looked like as a child. 

Jay nibbled her lower lip and cast swift glances towards Spike and he noticed her discomfort. Slowly putting his arm around her and drawing her into his embrace, Spike planted a feather-light kiss on her temple and said, "C'mon, Bitlet, it's me. You can tell me anythin'." 

Nodding, Jay gave Spike a quick hug before sliding out of his embrace. She folded both legs under her and faced her father. 

"I know I haven't told you guys much about, you know, my life with you guys in the future. And the whole boyfriend thing, or lack thereof, is one of 'em." 

"What do you mean, you didn't 'ave a boyfriend?" Spike asked, then fixed her with a serious look. "I didn't eat 'em, did I?" 

"No, Daddy," she said, and laughed, "although you did threaten Bobby Taylor from ever stepping foot onto Revello when he made me cry." 

"And who exactly was this Bobby Taylor?" 

"My thirteen-year-old crush." 

"Well, the git deserved it, making my baby girl cry." 

"Anyway," Jay said, and pulled a pillow into her lap, "like I said, I wasn't exactly the boyfriend-y type girl. I mean, me and Jason Nance dated for awhile when I was sixteen." 

"What happened to him?" 

Jay shrugged as she fiddled with the frilled edges of the pillow. "Trademark sophomoric breakup having to do with peer pressure and lies. Not too long after that was when the drama started. After that, even during the lulls, dating was the last thing on my mind. I mean, there were guys…" On Spike's dark look she held up a hand and amended. "Not like _that, _Daddy, definitely not like that. Sheesh, mind out of gutter, please."

"Good, didn't wanna have ta kill the bloke who tried touchin my girl." 

"He's already dead," she whispered and Spike barely heard it. 

"Jay, whatta ya mean? I thought you said…" 

"Seth." Although it was one word, the heartbreak in her tone told Spike the entire story. 

Oh, he remembered what she had said about Seth but Spike had never guessed that the dusted vampire had been her only experience with a man. Although she was his daughter, the thought of her never knowing the feeling of being with someone who cared and loved her as an equal sickened him and Spike wanted nothing more than to kiss away her pain. 

"Bitlet…" he said and trailed off. What could he say to her? 'Sorry' that your greatest innocence was taken, ripped from you by a sadistic bastard? Nothing he could say would make it better and the rage that bubbled up inside him was moot; Seth was gone, and there was no outlet for his vengeance. 

"So," she said, curiously cheerful, "now you see why I'm not all rah-rah with the dating game.

"Besides," she said, and stood up, gracing Spike with a kiss on the forehead, "I get way too much of a kick watching my two horn dog parents tryin' to keep their hands off each other." 

Spike smiled as Jay flounced out of the room. _That's my Bitlet, _he thought wistfully. Jay would never let anything beat her, no matter how painful. She would always fight to the end and Spike couldn't help the swell of pride that grew in his chest at the thought of his only daughter. 

The knock on the door interrupted the vampire's thoughts and a sadistic smile broke out across his face. Standing, he reached his arms to the ceiling before sauntering purposefully to the door. Turning the handle, Spike slowly pulled it open to reveal an extremely nervous looking CJ dressed in khakis, a polo shirt and dark dress boots holding a single red rose. 

"Hey, Spike," he said, and offered the vampire a tight smile. 

"CJ," Spike replied, making sure to throw in a bit of a growl in his tone. Strangely enough, that seemed to loosen CJ up a bit too much. Oh, this will not do, the vampire thought, as he ushered the young man inside. 

"Dawn's upstairs, getting ready," he said as they walked into the living room. "Sorta convenient, that, innit?" 

CJ frowned. "What do you mean?" 

"Just that it gives us time to chat some things out," Spike murmured, "man to…well, vampire." Spike couldn't hide the smirk when he heard CJ's heart skip a beat before hammering as if he were running from something. Oh yeah, this was gonna be fun. 

~~~

****

Late Evening

"Whoa," Dawn said as she plopped back into her seat, "that was hella fun." 

"Yeah, it was," CJ said, and took the chair next to her. "Never thought I'd be the one tryin' to keep up with you." 

Dawn sipped her Coke, thankful for the cool liquid. She let out a contented sigh as the soda passed her lips, glad that at least some burning fires could be doused. "Well," she said, and shrugged, "I'm just full of surprises, aren't I?" 

She shivered when his knuckles grazed her chin and the look on his face as his hungry eyes devoured her turned the teen's stomach in all sorts of good ways. It also reminded her that certain fires were definitely soda-retardant. 

"That you are, sweetie," he whispered, and closed the distance between them. Dawn's tongue slipped out of her mouth, moistening her lips as she leaned closer toward him. The blaring music was an afterthought to the pounding of the teenager's heart as her eyes zeroed in on the kissing target. So close, she thought. Just what she had been waiting for all night…

The evening had started on a rocky note. She had descended the steps with the intent to knock CJ's proverbial socks off, but of course pseudo brother-in-law had had CJ occupied, obviously threatening the young man with bodily harm should he touch his Nibblet. On the ride over, CJ had been uncharacteristically quiet (of course riding on a motorcycle was in no way conducive to idle conversation) although he livened up during the movie. By the time they had reached the Bronze, he'd been back to his normal self: sexy, charming and quite desirous. And now, with him being so close…

"So, you wanna dance some more?" CJ said, and Dawn blinked. 

"Huh?" 

"I said do you wanna dance some more?" She stared at him incredulously, searching for why they weren't engaged in a fierce lip lock. He was obviously reticent about giving her an explanation, considering his questioning eyes looking down at her. She took his proffered hand--and pulled him back down into the chair. 

"Hey, what was that for?" 

"You tell me," Dawn said and crossed her arms expectantly. CJ averted his eyes. 

"I don't know what you mean." 

"What-the-freak ever, CJ. You know what I'm talking about. The kissage," Dawn hissed and pushed back the surprise at her candor. 

"Kissage?" he repeated and his half hidden smirk only frustrated Dawn even more. 

"You know exactly what I mean. We were point two seconds away from a major lip lock and you just pull away." 

All pretense of hiding his amusement faded, and CJ broke out in a grin. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" 

"I just know how to read the signs." 

"So I'm giving off signs now?" 

Dawn huffed and stomped her foot. "Get off the BS, CJ and tell me what's up. Did Spike say something to you about kissing me?" First chink in his armor. CJ dropped his gaze. "What did he say?" 

"Nothin', D." 

"What. Did. He. Say?" 

"He…he saw us, D, out on the porch." He didn't need to specify and Dawn's face contorted into a mask of horror and uber-embarrassment. 

"No, he--he couldn't," she murmured, "he would have said something…or killed you on the spot." 

CJ chuckled humorlessly. "Apparently he didn't want to cause a scene." 

~~~

They sat in silence for several minutes as CJ watched the gamut of emotions pour across Dawn's face. Out of the anger, embarrassment and frustration, disbelief was the headliner. Although he hadn't known Spike long, CJ was willing to bet that the restraint the vampire called forth when CJ was nearly molesting Dawn was most likely the greatest pull of reserves the vampire had ever used. Not that CJ was complaining, however. Their talk earlier in the evening had shown the young man a different side of Spike and the lengths he would go to in order to protect Dawn. 

"I don't get it," she said, "why wouldn't he say anything?" 

CJ sighed. He'd promised Spike that he wouldn't mention their conversation to Dawn, well, at least the details; but he needed to tell her something. 

"He said that you were a teenager and teenagers make out." 

"Spike said that? Are you sure there wasn't an alien spider attached to his back?" 

"Huh?" 

Dawn waved her hand. "It was a bad eggs thing. Anyway, I still don't get it cause, yeah, teens do make out but what we were doing…" her cheeks flushed, "well, that was a tad more than 'just making out'." 

"Yeah, I think he noticed that, too." 

"So why aren't you like six feet deep now?" 

"Gee, thanks, kiddo." 

"You know what I mean." 

CJ shrugged and took a sip of his drink. "He said as much as he loathes the idea of me puttin my hands on you, he also knows that you're Buffy's sister…" 

"Meaning?" 

"Meaning, that if he tells you not to do something then you'd just do it anyway to spite him." 

"Would not," she said and crossed her legs in a very alluring pout. "Okay," she said on his skeptical look, "maybe he's not so wrong." 

"And as much as he wants to shield you from things, he doesn't want to make you feel like a kid." 

"He's never treated me like one," Dawn whispered and CJ heard the emotion in her voice. 

"He loves you, D, I can tell by the way he talks about you. He'd do anything for you." 

"I know." 

"That's why he threatened to rip my spleen out through my nose if I did anything--untoward," he said and took another sip. 

"And that entails…" 

"Anything beyond rubbing on shoulders, back, arms and the two inch free zone on your hips." 

"You're kidding me." 

"'Fraid not." Dawn wasn't too happy about that and CJ grabbed her hand before she could throw something. "Dawn, calm down." 

"Calm down?"

"He just wants to protect you without getting too overbearing." 

"And you don't think that's overbearing?" 

He shook his head. "No, I really don't." 

Dawn snorted and pulled her hand from his. "And why not?" 

"Because, he saw something else in the way we were going at it that scared him." 

"And what was that?" 

"The fact that if we had been alone, things would have gotten out of hand." 

"Out of hand? What does that--" And her hand flew to her mouth and she understood.

"Yeah," CJ said and leaned back in his chair. 

"Do you think we would have?" Dawn whispered after several minutes. 

"Dawn," he said, and took her hands in his, "I know we've only known each other a couple weeks or so, but when I'm near you, it's like every part of me points in your direction." When he saw her cheeks flush, he smiled apologetically. "Although I didn't mean it in that way."

"It's okay." 

"As for what would've happened if we were alone," he continued, "well, depending on what you said, we would have." 

He saw her gulp and fought the urge to kiss her pulsating jugular. "Wow," she said.

"Yeah, wow." Dawn worried her bottom lip and her thumbs caressed his knuckles. 

"CJ, I really like you. I mean really, really like you. And as much as I get all jumpy when you're around, I'm…" 

"What, D?" 

"I'm not ready for that."

"I know." 

She frowned. "How do you know?" 

"Because I don't think I'm quite ready for us to…well, you know." 

Dawn couldn't keep the surprise off her face and CJ knew the question before she even asked. 

"So, you mean you--never?" 

"No, D, I have, but it was never with that special someone." 

"Oh. So, what about since you've been here?" 

Was that hope in her voice? CJ smiled to himself. Evidently Dawn Summers was making sure to lay claim to him as her Sunnydale man. Well, she didn't have to worry about that at all. 

"Not a one," he said, "although there were a couple close calls." 

"Is that so?" 

"Chill, sweetie," he said and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, "that was way before I met you." 

"I didn't…okay, so maybe I was going the possessive route, but you can't blame me." 

"And why is that?" Dawn sighed and lowered her eyes for the first time since the conversation began. "Dawn," he said and raised her chin, "what is it?" 

"It's just--it's just that I'm sixteen, CJ, and no matter how womanly I may look or try to act, I'm just a kid. But you, you're nineteen. You can get into clubs I can't, all the college sk--girls would jump on you in a second and I know that most of 'em wouldn't mind going to bed with you." 

"What's your point?" 

"My point is, what do you want me for?" 

Without thinking, CJ cupped Dawn's cheeks and pulled her in for a kiss. He reigned in on his desire to deepen it, though he allowed himself the opportunity to taste her. When he pulled back, she gasped and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Dawn," he said and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "you are incredible. I can't begin to tell you how wonderful you are. I wake up everyday thinking about you, and you're my last thought before I go to sleep. Do I want you in every way? Hell yeah, but I know that we're not there yet. We still have to get to know each other and sex won't help in that matter." 

"But I thought it was supposed to bring people closer." 

"It does, for people like your sister and Spike, who are in love already." 

"Thanks for the image, CJ," she said. 

CJ chuckled but focused on his point. "But for people like us, who are getting to know one another, it may screw everything else up. And I don't wanna take that chance." 

He saw the understanding in her obsidian eyes and before anything else could be said, CJ pulled her up with him and ushered her to the dance floor. When they got to a clearing, he brought her close, gasping softly at the feel of her body against his. She felt so perfect against him and, despite his words, CJ wondered how in the hell he was supposed to wait for her to be ready. 

_You'll wait, Spike had said, you'll wait because she's worth it. _

And as they swayed to the dulcet tune, CJ shook his head. He really couldn't go against Spike's logic. Dawn was worth it. He would wait for her. Months or years, it didn't matter, for when she was finally ready to take that next step, CJ had no doubt that he'd be beside her to take it with her. 

~~~

"They seem to be having a good time," Buffy said as she took another sip from her Tequila Sunrise. 

"Seems to be," Spike replied gruffly. Buffy glanced over at her boyfriend and smiled. His elbows were propped against the railing and he leaned over it, scanning the crowd like an eagle dive-bombing for a mouse. His duster covered his black ensemble and she smiled at the unlit cigarette that hung from his lips. 

Despite it being her idea to 'check out the Bronze before patrol--for the safety of the people, of course, and in no way used as spy-

age on my sister, thank you very much', Spike had jumped at the prospects. Most likely because he _knew _that this little jaunt to the hip bar was to the tune of Dawn spy-age. Buffy didn't know why she wanted to check Dawn out, the sisterly talk about sex and all that stuff had gone smoothly and, after a few close calls in which Buffy was tempted to call a nunnery, Dawn had come clean and been honest about not being ready for that. She also promised that when the time came, she and Buffy would have another talk about taking that next step. 

"Spike," Buffy said, and nudged his arm; "she's all right. He's not gonna molest her in the middle of the dance floor, ya know." 

"Reckon you must've forgotten our little Bronze show under tha coat a few months back." 

Buffy blushed furiously. Oh, boy did she remember. "But it's not like he even has a duster." 

"Yeah," he admitted, "but the boy's bright. He'd find some other way, believe you me." 

The slayer rolled her eyes and hooked her arm through Spike's. On his questioning gaze, she cocked her head to the steps and pulled him along. "I am officially canceling our Dawn spy-age for the night. She is officially in good hands." Buffy held up a glass-filled hand. "I overrule you; sister, remember." 

"Whatever, pet," Spike said disinterestedly as they walked down the steps. She caught him taking one final peek at the dance floor before ushering her through the back door. 

"So," she said, after they exited the back alley, "where to next?" 

"Figured we'd do a bit o' patrollin'," Spike said and laughed when Buffy sighed.   
"But you said tonight was my night off." 

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Slayer, I was just pullin your leg." 

Buffy stopped and cut her eyes up at Spike. When he glanced over at her, she raked her eyes up and down his clothed form before locking her gaze on his. "But I thought you liked when I get my 'knickers in a twist'." 

"Well, I…" he gulped when she pushed herself up against him and a thrill shot up Buffy's spine at the power she had over this beautiful creature. 

"Cause if they're in a bunch," she said and kissed the corner of his jaw, "that means it's a wedgie, " she ran her tongue over his jaw line. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she raised up on her tiptoes and whispered breathlessly, "And to get 'em out, you could do that tongue thing." 

Buffy gasped when Spike pushed her against the wall and his tongue assaulted her mouth in a way she hadn't been familiar with since coming out of her coma. She groaned when hands slipped under her white skirt and cupped her bottom. Buffy leaned into Spike, grateful for his strength as her knees buckled from the intensity. Her hands eagerly probed the muscles that lay hidden underneath his shirt and, when she started to _really _get worked up, it all stopped. 

"What…what's wrong?" she asked. 

"Nothin, luv," Spike said and his knuckles caressed her cheek.

"Then what's with the stoppage?" She frowned when he chuckled. 

"Bossy lil' chit, aren't ya?" 

"I sure as hell am when I ain't getting none," she huffed and started to flounce away. Of course, the weakness in her legs and the subsequent wobbling killed any statement she was trying to make. 

"C'mere, pet," Spike said and grabbed her by the hips. Buffy purposefully pushed her backside into his groin and giggled when Spike murmured her name. 

"I was offering," she sing-songed, "but I guess you didn't want me. Well that serves…" She trailed off when a single keycard dangled in front of her eyes. Her brows knitted as she studied the elegant writing, and when she figured out what it said…

"The Sunnydale Arms!" 

"That very same," Spike said and nibbled on her earlobe. 

"But I thought that didn't open until--"

"Tonight, luv." 

She turned in his arms and glared at him with loving suspicion. "And just how did you get that, Mister?" 

Shrugging, he said, " 've got connections. Could tell you all about 'em, but that wouldn't leave me much room to talk about the suite I just so happened to get, complete with Jacuzzi and…" 

Spike blinked and when he opened his eyes, Buffy was halfway down the street, keycard in hand. "I'll race you," she yelled back and continued her run, thankful for the comfort of an affordable pair of ankle boots. 

She laughed when she heard Spike's growl closing but refused to look back. She knew if she did, they would never make it to the hotel, and where was the fun in that? 

Scratch that, she thought, it would be damn fun and everything else. But the middle of the street versus a Jacuzzi suite…hmmm. Although Spike made any venue for lovemaking appeasing, that suite would win every damn time. 

And she doubted Spike would argue the point. 

~~~

****

Laaaaate Evening 

"Wow," she said as she rolled off of him, and swept her damp hair out of her face. 

"Yeah," he replied, "wow." 

Silence permeated the room as they both stared at the ceiling. Their bodies were covered in sweat and the room was thick with the alluring scent of sex. She glanced over at him and he smiled tentatively.

"So," Xander said, "gonna kick me out this time?"

Faith winced at the remembrance of that one night. It had been his first time and she'd treated him like a piece of meat. And, if she were honest with herself, Faith had thought of doing just that a second time, although it had been a momentary thought, it had been there nonetheless. 

"No," she said, casting as much nonchalance in her voice as possible, "I'm not quite done with you just yet." 

"That's funny," Xander said with a smile, and disappeared under the covers, "cause I'm not quite done with you, either." 

And when his tongue danced across that sensitive spot, Faith lost all form of rational thought. But not before a voice in her head whispered _He's not going anywhere anytime soon;_ _not out of this bed…and not out of my life. _

Next:

****

My Cup Runneth Over…_Spike and Buffy in a Jacuzzi Suite…'nuff said. _


	25. My Cup Runneth Over

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 24

__

My Cup Runneth Over

May 26th, 2002

Buffy Summers was speechless. 

On the short run to the hotel she had thought up several different scenarios she could act out once she saw the room; they ranged from flabbergasted Southern Belle to bored rich brat who'd seen it all before. Although she hadn't picked out her reaction before sliding the keycard home just before Spike's arms wrapped around her waist, she wanted said reaction to be what Spike least expected. 

"So, you like?" He whispered in her ear and Buffy shivered. "Knew you would," he said and smiled into her neck. Okay, so she wasn't exhibiting that 'least expected' reaction, quite the opposite in fact. But it was difficult to do when something so wonderful was before her. 

The suite--and, yes, it was that, to the nines--was decorated in a bevy of dark colors: hunter greens, burgundies and such, coordinated to perfection. The Jacuzzi lay in the far corner, near the skylight that gave the viewer a perfect view of the night sky. Not too far from the hot tub and staring out into the wall-sized window was the largest four-post bed Buffy had ever seen. Even from here she could tell that the sheets were either a fine velvet or pristine silk. She couldn't completely say just by the way the candlelight reflected off the sheets. And speaking of candles…

The room was filled with dozens of candles, all a different shape and size. The wonderful fragrances blended perfectly, unlike her multi-scented candle experiments and Buffy marveled at whoever had been able to accomplish that particular task. 

A gentle push propelled her forward and Buffy crossed the threshold. Her heels sank into the carpet and when she glanced down, it reminded her of sand during a midnight walk on the beach. 

"Beautiful, innit?" The vampire behind her said and Buffy nodded, vaguely aware of the click of the door. "If you really wanna see somethin', pet, cast your eyes skyward." 

Obeying his commands, Buffy gasped when her eyes fell upon the ceiling. "It…but how?" 

"Should've told you that certain rooms in this establishment aren't what one would call 'for general use of the public'." 

Buffy could only swallow, as she took in the twinkling stars that littered the ceiling. It reminded her of the visits to the Observatory in LA as a child, how the stars seemed to become larger than life, a direct contrast to the shell of life they resembled when staring into the sky with a naked eye. Yes, this was just like that, only it was almost as if...

"You can touch 'em…" 

"Huh?" Buffy mumbled and turned to Spike.

"I said, it's almost like you can touch 'em." Buffy stared into the sapphire gaze of her lover and, before any other words were spoken, she kissed him. 

Spike's muffled surprise was short-lived, and soon Buffy found herself enveloped in his strong embrace. His tongue stroked hers while his hands danced up and down her back, before sneaking underneath the boundaries of her dark blouse. 

Buffy's hands were just as eager, slipping underneath Spike's black button-down shirt--worn just for her--and fondling the sharp muscles of his upper body. His hardness rubbed against her stomach and Buffy jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. The young woman was thankful that she was wearing the tight stretch pants, as friction of their two cores rubbing together was the closest they'd had to intercourse for months. The coarse fabric of the denim glanced across her clit and Buffy moaned, feeling her hips take on a mind of their own. She ground into Spike and he stumbled. She gasped when they tumbled onto the bed but their kiss was never broken. Not until Spike pulled away. 

"Cor, luv," he whispered and his eyes shone with emotion nearly too intense for her to face, even now. "You are so bloody beautiful." 

Although she'd heard Spike's admissions countless times, Buffy blushed under his platitudes and smiled shyly. 

"You always make me feel…" but her words trailed off when she focused on the ceiling expanse just above the bed. 

"You like?" Spike asked and rolled off of her. She gaped at the scene before her. In the mirror, where there should have been only one figure-- her--were two. The second figure was decked out in black and topped with a shock of platinum blonde. His cheekbones sliced the air as he smiled at her reflection. 

"Right handsome bloke, ain't he?" Spike said and laid his head on her breast. 

"But…what?" 

"Called the Mirror or Razuel, made by the Razuel clan. Makes visible all entities, regardless of physical characteristics."

"How? I mean, how?" 

"Like I said, luv, special amenities." 

Buffy peeled her eyes away from the mirror and stared incredulously at her boyfriend. "Are you crazy?" 

"Well," he said, and smirked, "how quickly the winds change." 

"Spike, how can you be so cavalier about this. That's your freakin' reflection up there."

"So I gathered--"

"And you're all, ' 's not a big deal'," she said, and mimicked smoking a cigarette. 

Spike shrugged and stared back up at the mirror. "It's not that I don't care, luv, or that I'm not a bit intrigued; it's just that as surprising as it is to see yourself after a hundred plus years, it's nothing compared to the overwhelming urge to feel and make love to you."

Buffy's mouth opened as Spike again blindsided her with the beauty of his words. She traced the contours of his face with her fingertips before pulling him back on top of her. She kissed him but Spike pulled away and glanced at her with questioning eyes. 

"I want to see you up there," she said, explaining her open eyes, "moving against me, in me. I want to see your beautiful body." 

"Buffy, you always do," he said, the lust clogging his throat. 

"But it's different like this, seeing it from this angle." 

"Far be it from me to disappoint my lady." 

~~~

Buffy's eyes flitted between Spike's face and the mirror and as much as the vampire loved the keys to her soul that those hazel orbs provided, the fascination etched across her face was enough to temper his longing for eye contact. They divested each other of clothing rapidly, not taking time for a slow undressing. There would be plenty of time for that later, but now all Spike wanted--and from her ministrations, Buffy too--was the feel of one another's flesh. 

The platinum blonde gasped when Buffy's nails scraped tingly paths of arousal and pain down his back. His hands fisted in her hair as his lips claimed her neck as his own. The harder he sucked, the more she moved underneath him, and Spike had a hard time saying bugger all to the teasing. No, he wanted this to be drawn out as long as possible, even if they had the entire night to reaffirm their love. 

"Want you," Buffy whimpered, writhing underneath him, "want you in me now." Spike shuddered at the need in Buffy's voice, and without a second thought he slid into her heat. 

"God, Buffy," he groaned and Buffy answered him with an unintelligible grunt of her own. He remained still for several minutes, reveling in the love she gave him so willingly. Yeah, it may have been physical but Spike knew enough of Buffy to understand that giving herself to him as she had was more than just a good shag--there was so much more to that. It was something that he'd always wanted, always craved but could never receive, not even in a century with Dru. 

"I love you," Buffy whispered in his ear and stroked his back lovingly. Spike groaned at her admission and began to move inside of her. 

This is heaven, Spike thought as he allowed the scent and feel of Buffy to envelop him. 

~~~

It was like nothing she had ever seen. 

Buffy was transfixed with the image before her. She watched the reflection in the mirror intently, and her eyes traced the contours of Spike's back, the same contours that her fingers had navigated across so many times. To watch him from such a perspective only heightened her arousal and she pressed her hips forward to meet his, relishing in the barely contained power of his thrusts. 

"God, Buffy," Spike whispered into her hair as his hands caressed her legs, "you feel so bloody good, wanna stay inside you, never be apart." The words that tumbled from his lips enthralled the slayer and she was helpless when her first orgasm slammed through her unexpectedly. 

"Spike!" Buffy screamed and stared in fascination as her nails dug into his flesh. Spike's hips pumped into her faster and harder, and the sound of flesh slapping together was their own distinct melody. Her eyes rolled back when Spike mingled words of love with the most decadent of speech and when she bared her neck to him, begging him to take her, Spike did not hesitate. 

The last thing Buffy felt before falling into darkness were the fangs embedded in her throat and her lover's essence filling her as only he could. 

~~~

Spike awoke to the gentle caress against his chest. Smiling contentedly, the vampire opened his eyes and yawned, expecting to see mischievous hazel eyes staring back at him. But when he soaked in the slayer's face, he was surprised to see her deeply enthralled with the back of her eyelids.

"Mmmm, Spike," she murmured and threw her leg across his waist. He chuckled and intertwined his fingers with her hand that rested on his chest. 

He lay like that--peaceful and calm--for nearly an hour before the petite woman beside him stirred. 

"Spike?" she asked as she tried to blink away the residues of sleep from her eyes. 

"Here I am, pet," he replied and kissed her on the forehead.

Buffy's leg fell between his as she stretched and the vampire bit his lip to contain the growl that was slowly bubbling to the surface. He stroked her golden locks as she snuggled back to him. 

"What is it, luv?" he asked when she frowned into his chest. 

"I'm icky." 

"Icky? What are you blabberin' about? There's not one part 'o you that's 'icky'. You are the finest, most…" 

"Down there, Captain Cums-a lot," she said. Spike couldn't help but laugh and was rewarded with a slap to the chest. "Not funny, asshole." 

"Oh, it was funny all right, Slayer," he said and he quickly rolled on top of her, holding her wrists over her head. "But it was also very, very naughty." Buffy gasped when Spike's erection drifted across the moisture of her new arousal. Spike closed his eyes and moaned when she parted her legs for him and he resisted the urge to drive himself into her with a ruthless passion. 

"What is it, Spike?" She asked coyly, enunciating the 'ike' at the end of his name. 

"When you do that, it drives me bloody loony." 

She batted her eyelashes and his grip tightened around her wrists. "Do what?" 

So you wanna play innocent, you little minx? Spike thought. Well, two can play this game. "You know what you do," Spike said and eased the tip of his erection into her. 

Buffy gasped and her eyes fluttered. "No, I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Is that so?" She nodded and he forced another gasp from her lips when he swiveled his hips, pushing into her a bit further. "Well, guess I'll just have to refresh your memory." And without further preamble, Spike fell headfirst back into heaven. 

~~~

Buffy stared at the images above her. She still couldn't get the fascination of Spike appearing in the mirror beside her. Her eyes met with his in the mirror and she smiled as he traced her breasts with her fingertips. 

"That was amazing," she said as she idly cupped his groin with one hand. 

"Takes two to tango, pet," he said, and returned the gesture. Buffy moaned and spread her legs as his deft hands stroked her in all the right ways. 

"Yeah," she mewled, "that too." 

"We are bloody great together, Buffy, you know that?" 

"I do," she panted as she neared that oh so blissful precipice once more. Spike continued his ministrations and swallowed her scream when she fell. 

Buffy took her time regaining her breath as she stared at the resplendent form of her lover smiling at her. Still caught in the afterglow, she drunkenly stroked his cheek. "I love you, you know that, don't you?" 

"That I do, pet," he said. His aim for a confident reply failed miserably. Disbelief glistened in his eyes and Buffy sobered. All the hardships he'd endured, loving someone completely for a century, only to have her throw him by the wayside for her 'Daddy'. Then, falling in love with a slayer, only to be mocked by her and her friends alike; to be used as if he were nothing more than an undead vibrator by said slayer. Was there any doubt as to why he had a hard time believing in her love, even with the proof of their love in the form of a twenty-three year old child from the future? 

"Spike," Buffy said, and cupped his face firmly between her small hands, "I want you to look at me, really look at me.

"I. Love. You." She held up her hand when he started to speak. "No, let me finish this. 

"I love you more than any man I have ever loved, do you hear me? I love you more than Riley, even more than Angel. You've always been there for me, even when I didn't want you there. You always tell me what I don't want to hear but need to hear. You're there even when I'm being the uber-bitch to you, always with my best interests at heart." On his skeptical look, she amended. "Okay, _usually _with my best interests at heart. 

"The point is, Spike, you're everything that I want, and everything that I need. And I'm not gonna ever give up on that, ever. 

"I know never is a strong word, but baby, I want you to know, that I'm never going to give up on you, or us. No matter what comes our way, no matter tries to get in between us. Do you understand?" 

Spike nodded and Buffy kissed away the lone tear that trickled down his face. "I'm in this for the long haul, sweetie, so don't think that I'm gonna get tired of you and start looking for a normal guy. Cause I think I've finally gotten it." 

"Gotten what, pet?" 

"That I'm not the typical normal and that I don't want the typically normal life. Yeah, my friends my think I'm crazy for loving another vampire, but you know what I say? For me, that is normal. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Luv, that was…" 

"No more talking," Buffy ordered, "time for orgasms. Lots of orgasms." 

"You minx you."   
Buffy giggled as Spike nuzzled her neck. "And you love it, too." 

He growled in response and the rest of the night was spoken by actions, actions that, after several months, they had finally perfected. Yet now this new step involved love and it was all that either one of them had ever wished for. After years of searching, they found complete acceptance in each other's arms.

As the night wore on, the slayer and her vampire further lost themselves in their carnal desires and heartfelt love. But even the paradise that accompanied their coupling was not enough to shake the disturbing thought that pervaded the slayer's mind that the night they now shared would be their last contented night for a long time coming. 

__

Next chapter….**Unwanted…**

Buffy stared at the site before her in shock. She was vaguely aware of her crushing grip she had on the door handle and she knew it was only a matter of seconds before it broke. But the foggy haze was too much to penetrate and she could only mutter incoherently at the figure before her. 

I would say more but I want you all to be surprised. VERY surprised…


	26. Unwanted

Severed Ties 

****

Chapter 25

__

Unwanted 

June 4th, 2002

"Angel Investigations," a raspy voice said. A very familiar voice. 

"Wesley," Angel growled, his hand tightening around the phone. He eased his grip when the sharp crack of plastic filled the air. "What the hell are you doing there?" 

There was no answer from the other line but the vampire heard the former watcher's jagged breathing and Angel opened his mouth to speak when Wesley broke the silence. 

"Gunn and Fred needed me." 

"What? Is there another baby that needs to be kidnapped? You wanna break up another family, _Wes_?" Angel spat. 

"I understand why you are upset, Angel," the other man replied, clearly forcing himself to be calm, "but understand that I was only doing what I thought was right. And…" 

"You thought that taking my son from me was right? What's next, you're gonna put a stake through my heart to help alleviate my sour moods. Wesley, you took my son. My son! A son that was the greatest miracle in my life and you try to placate me with 'I was only doing what I thought was right'. How dare you?!" 

"I dare, Angel," Wesley replied, the conciliation gone from his voice, "because there are greater things at work than my erroneous judgment."

The urge to kill Wesley was so great that the bloodlust in Angel's veins clogged his throat like bile. He was vaguely aware of shifting into game face but shook it away. Gritting his teeth, Angel reigned in the blind rage that seeped from his pores and cleared his throat. "Why are you there?" he asked, aware of the fragmentary control of his voice. 

"As I said, Fred and Gunn called me in. It's Lorne…" 

The vampire frowned, taken aback by the news. "Is he okay?" 

"Physically, he's fine, but emotionally…I don't know what it was he saw, Angel, but it disturbed him greatly." 

"Did--did he say anything about what he saw?" 

A tired sigh answered him. "All he could say was that something's coming, something bad."

"How bad?" 

"Bad enough for him to close down Caritas for the past two days." 

Angel shook his head in disbelief. That Lorne would shut down the bar for any amount of time--aside from remodeling--was disconcerting. And instincts told Angel that whatever Lorne had sensed had to do with Cordy's vision as well as the impending doom that was slowly working its way into his veins. 

"Angel, are you still there?" 

"I'm here, Wes," the vampire replied. "So Lorne has no idea what's going on, just that something bad is coming." 

"That is correct. Except…" 

Angel sat up straight, "Wes, what is it?" 

He could almost hear the other man's brain spinning but said nothing, allowing Wesley time to answer. "Truly it does not make much sense, but Lorne said that he felt as if it had something to do with you--"

"What doesn't nowadays?" 

"And Connor." 

The mention of his son's name twisted the invisible stake further into his chest and as he sometimes did, Angel wished the grief would incinerate him. It may have been selfish but the loss of his son was worse than any deed he'd ever perpetrated as Angelus and their were time that the Powers' Champion was overwhelmed by his loss. 

"Angel," Wesley's voice broke in, the hesitancy clear in his tone, "about Connor…" 

"Don't, Wes." 

"You have to realize that…" 

"Wes," he growled and the former watcher was silent. "Don't. I don't know what's going on there but I'm glad you're there." 

"That means a lot to me," he replied after a moment of silence. 

"Don't get it confused, Wes. I will never forgive you for what you did and, if you value your life, after all this is over, I'd suggest you disappear for a long time. Because next time I see you, there may be no one to pull me off of you." Without waiting for a reply, Angel clicked the phone off. 

__

Tossing the phone onto the bed, Angel walked to the window. He watched as the sun was overtaken by the ominous thunderheads; they roared their triumph at the day's premature defeat as blackness began its descent over Sunnydale. 

"What is it?" Angel turned towards the voice and his morose thoughts were forgotten as he watched his goddess exit the bathroom, clad in a towel. His eyes drifted to her exposed thigh where the towel's coverage concluded. 

"Angel," Cordelia said, snapping a finger in front of his face. Only by force of will was he able to tamper the lust that flowed through his veins. Still, the overwhelming desire to touch her would not be satiated so easily. Giving in to the need, Angel pulled Cordelia to his chest, ignoring her protests. Said protests were quickly extinguished with a thorough exploration of her exposed neck as his hands roamed underneath her scant coverings. It was only a matter of time before his kisses migrated to her lips and the two lost themselves in the passionate struggle for supremacy. 

Moments before her surrender, Cordelia pulled away and fed her depleted lungs. "Okay," she panted, placing her hands on his chest. "Not one to complain but--where in the hell did that come from?" 

Angel ducked his head and shrugged. "Can't it just be my need to ravish my girl when she enters the room covered in a towel?" 

"You could," she said and nipped at his ear, "but we both know that's not the reason." 

All humor lost, Angel scowled. "And what is the reason?" 

Cordelia graced his lips with a chaste kiss before taking a seat on the bed. She sat cross-legged and stared at him with patient eyes. "Well, brood boy, that's what I want you to tell me."

Sighing, Angel ran his fingers through his hair and stole a glance outside. The sun was now completely overshadowed by the unforgiving storm that was approaching yet the tiniest of rays fought through the blanket of darkness. Even when the sun was a distant memory and night ruled the hours, Angel knew that the light would never disappear; it would always be waiting, just over the horizon to banish the shadows and give its brilliant light to the world again. 

"And it always will," he said, "it always will." 

His gaze fell on Cordelia and he saw the confusion written in her eyes. Taking a seat next to her, the vampire clasped one of her delicate hands between his palms and stared into her shimmering pupils. 

"I called LA." 

"So how are they doing? Can't get anything straight without us there, can they? I knew we should've…" 

"Cordy." 

"Oops, sorry." 

Angel smiled. "That's okay. But as far as the gang, things aren't sunshine and daisies." He sighed. "I talked to Wes." 

"Wes?" Cordelia's eyebrows scrunched together. "But how? They know what happened with…"

"Yeah, they do," he interrupted tersely. "Sorry, it's just that…well, it's just that Gunn and Fred called him in." 

Cordelia closed the distance between them and he saw her worry bubble to the surface. "But why?"

"That's the thing; it seems that things are getting more complicated than we thought…"

~~~

__

Summers Residence

"Hey, luv." 

"Shhhh." 

"What? Tryin to hide from someone? 'S not like…" 

"For your information I'm observing Xander and Faith." 

"And you're channeling your inner secret agent because…" 

A pointed sigh. "Don't tell me, Mister 'I-know-what-everyone's-thinking-at-all-hours-of-the-day' that you haven't noticed the tension between them since last week." 

"Well, yeah, but I'm still a bit thrown by the need to snoop on them." 

"Body language." 

"Mmmm." She gasped when he ground his erection against her butt. "Can you tell what I'm thinkin' by my body's language." 

"You're always thinking that," she replied, desperately attempting to control her breathing. 

"So you won't mind one bit if I toss you over my shoulder, take you back up to your room and proceed to shag you senseless and crippled?" 

She slapped him on the thigh. "Talk a little louder, why don't ya." 

"Fine then," he answered, his annoyance clear. "So, what's this about body lingo you're lookin' for, 'Penny'." Studies her intently. "Hey, where're those lovely pig tails?" 

"Ha, bloody, ha. Probably the same place you put your collar, _Brain._

Leering smirk. "Always knew you were a dominatrix at heart." 

Very annoyed sigh. "Will you shut up." 

"Fine, shutting up." A beat. "So why the body language?" 

"I wanna see why they've been actin' so weird around each other." 

"Ever think of, oh, I don't know, asking 'em." 

Very unladylike snort. "As if they'll be honest." 

"How do you know they won't?" 

"Spike, it's Xander and Faith…" 

Pause. "Say no more." 

"Anyway," she said, peering around the corner, "I'm trying to see if they give away the big whoop on why they're so awkward now." 

"Oh." Silence descends for several minutes. "Uh, luv…" 

"What?" 

"You know you could've just asked me, ya know." 

"Like you know." 

"I do. Remember, 'can tell what everyone's thinkin' and all that rot." 

"You'd just say there's unresolved sexual tension and they need to shag it out." 

"True," he admitted, "if that wasn't already the problem." 

Pregnant pause. 

"Did you just say…?" 

"Oh, yeah," he said, grinning ear to ear, "the whelp and Shade shagged big time that night we were in the hotel. Surprised you couldn't smell it. Even non-vampires should've picked up the sex in the air. Hell, it was like bloody cookies were being, well, cooked." A heavy silence followed. 

Buffy leaned against the wall and regarded her boyfriend. She smacked him in the chest, hard. 

"Oy! What was that for?" 

"You just scarred me for life," she said and walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, you asked." When there was no reply, he sighed and trudged towards the kitchen, muttering about the inconsistencies of 'bloody women' the entire way. 

~~~

They sat in silence, she reading a magazine as he flipped through the channels. Every now and then he would say something insignificant and she would only shrug her shoulders. Xander would sigh and return to watching whatever passed for entertainment and she would continue reading. That was how it was supposed to be, right? Bang a guy for a night (or two, as the case was) and give him the brush off. Even if said guy was terrific in every way, even if he understood you as well as anyone could, even if you were in serious jeopardy of falling for him--scratch that. _Especially _if you were in serious jeopardy of falling for him. Yeah, Faith had the procedures for kicking a guy to the curb down. She'd done it dozens of times and this was no different. 

Except for the fact that she was miserable. 

_Damn it, _she thought, _it's not supposed to be like this. I'm not supposed to feel bad about it. _But she did. She felt worse about this than almost squeezing the life out of Xander all those years ago. At least then she could blame it on being royally fucked up. But now…how many times in the last year had she told herself that she'd changed? Her stint in Sunny D had proven that fact; she had opened up about things that she never would have given a second thought to before. She put off her trademark defensiveness, not taking things personally like she used to. And yeah, she still needed a whole helluva lotta work in certain departments, but that didn't mean that she wasn't on her way to being the best that she could be (without a desire to join the Army). But this whole thing with Xander…

A chuckle from the other side of the couch interrupted Faith's thoughts and she turned towards the bearded man beside her. Though he tried to hide it, Faith saw the weariness and dejected edge around his eyes. It was like the air had been forced from his lungs and, despite his efforts, he couldn't refill them. It was the look of major disappointment, the feeling of being used and unwanted. 

It was something that Faith had become intimately familiar with. 

_What is your problem, bitch? _She scolded herself. Faith's emotions were at war like they had never been; parts of her clung desperately to her ice bitch routine she had first exhibited when she was fourteen. Other parts wanted nothing more than to act the role of the girly girl, to be swept off her feet…but in order to do that, she had to open up, be honest with Xander and herself. But how could she do that if she was…

"…scared." Faith was startled by the sound of her own voice and she turned to Xander. 

"What did you say?" he asked, the hope and longing clear in his eyes despite his efforts to hide them. 

For a moment, Faith moved towards blowing him off again, to erect that impenetrable wall of cool indifference. She didn't know what stopped her. 

"I said I'm scared." She dropped her gaze from him and her eyes concentrated on her jittery hands in her lap. She heard the TV shut off and glimpsed Xander turn his body towards her. The couch groaned as he shifted his weight closer towards the center. 

"Faith," his voice was steady, encouraging, "what are you scared of?" 

That was a loaded question. What was she scared of? Nothing? Everything? The little ball of nervousness that made itself known when he was near?

She decided to go with answer number two. 

"What do you mean?" His tone was a mix of disbelief and relief and that kindled her anger. 

"What the hell do you think I mean?" she hissed and stood. "Generally when someone says they're scared, that means they're scared. God, what the fuck do you think I meant." 

Xander stood with the fluid grace of a dancer and approached her with caution. "Faith, I didn't mean anything by it," he soothed her, "I was just surprised that you…" 

"That I what? That I can get scared? What do you think I am, some cold heartless bitch that doesn't fear nothin'?"

"No, of course not. Faith, I know you're scared. Remember our last chat before you…you were scared then and you're scared now." He was barely a foot from her now. "But tell me, what are you so afraid off?" 

"Everything," she shouted and stepped away from him. She hugged herself tight, trying to stomp down the chills that wracked her body. 

"Remember last week, when we talked?" Xander nodded. "I told you how I was terrified of caring again, terrified that, if I did care, it would be taken away from me." 

"Faith, what do you think will happen?" 

"I don't know! That's the point. I don't know if what's coming's gonna get the best of us all. I don't know if I start caring for you that you won't get tired of me. I don't know how long B'll wanna put up with me. I don't know a goddamn thing, Xander."

She turned her back and studied the fireplace. Although she heard him move, she was surprised when his arms circled her tiny waist. She leaned into him automatically, allowing herself this one comfort because, if she didn't, she was going to fall apart. 

"Do we ever really know if something's gonna last? Do we really know if the time we see our loved ones walk out the door will be the last? That some ridiculous accident won't take them from us? No, we don't. All we know is that tomorrow will bring a new day and we have to live each to the fullest." 

"But what if it's too much to ask of yourself?"

Xander's arms tightened around her and Faith sighed. His heart beat against her back and his breath tickled her ear. She didn't understand the contentment that washed over her as he held her and she didn't want to question it. Still, she couldn't help the doubts that surfaced every time she thought of them together. 

Warm lips on her neck broke Faith's thoughts and she moaned, craning her head to the side, offering herself to him. 

"Faith," Xander whispered in her ear, "I know you. True, there's a lot I don't know, but the important stuff; your strength, your courage, your ability to care even when you don't want to…I see that as clear as I see the beautiful woman in my arms. You're right, it's scary. Emotions always are. We never know when we're gonna get burned but even in that, we generally truck on. Why? Because, although it may be too much to ask sometimes, to take those chances, the potential rewards for taking those chances always makes up for the doubt and heartache. 

"I wanna take that chance with you, Faith. I know it's only been a few weeks, but there is something about you that I've always wanted to be a part of. Even back then when we first got down, I wanted to explore a relationship; and no, it had nothing to do with you being my first." 

Faith whirled in his arms. "I…I was your first?" Although she was stunned, she couldn't banish her amusement, especially when Xander's cheeks tinged a burnt red. 

"Yeah, well, the Xand-man didn't get around much. Third base coach never waved me around."

"So you were a virgin. Will wonders never cease." 

"You saw me then. I wasn't what one would call the Don."

Faith chuckled. "Oh I know that. You were a geek through and through." 

"Thanks a lot," he said but before he turned away, Faith grabbed his hand. 

"Of course, you were the sexiest geek there was."

Something thawed within her when he granted her that silly, lopsided grin and Faith squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

" 'There was'," he repeated, "as in, 'no longer'?" 

"Of course not," she said and kissed him on the cheek. She pulled away and their brown eyes connected on a level of understanding that even their night in bed hadn't allowed. "You're not a geek anymore." 

"So what am I?" 

Without thinking, Faith's lips dove in, claiming Xander's. Her actions startled him and she slid her tongue into his mouth before he could respond. After a few moments, he melted into the kiss and pulled her against him. 

Faith pulled away suddenly and grinned at his confusion. "C'mon," she said and pulled him to the door. 

"Where are we going?" he asked as they stepped into the darkening day. 

"I'm gonna show you what you are." 

"And what is that?" 

She regarded him with hooded eyes, trying to keep her throbbing core under control. There was so much inside of her that yearned for release, so much they had yet to discuss but it didn't matter. Her admission from the last few minutes had echoed their previous conversation a week and a half before; she was scared. The other intricacies of her flight or fight responses were irrelevant now. Yeah, she still had some painful baggage that she wanted to share with him but that could wait. Right now, she wanted to enjoy him, enjoy the possibilities of what being with Xander could bring. 

"Mine," she said, and winked at him. She took off into the night and heard Xander's footfalls not far behind. 

As the first drops of rain fell against her white tank top, Faith smiled like she hadn't done in…in forever. There was so much she still didn't know about herself and what she could be but she would risk the pain to find out. She would take that leap of faith. And should she fall? She knew Xander would be there to pick her back up. 

And for the first time in her life, everything was trulyfive-by-five. 

~~~

Buffy stirred the hot chocolate with her finger, watching the white foam of melted marshmallows swirl around her hand like some chocolatey tsunami. The sips from across the table gave her pause and she turned hazel eyes to her lover. 

"They stopped yelling," she said, and he nodded. "Think she killed him?" 

"Doubt that, pet," Spike replied and caressed her wrist with his fingertips. Even that simple gesture produced a gasp from Buffy's lips and she saw the mirth dancing in his azure eyes. 

"What?" 

"Nothin' luv, just basking in the effect I 'ave on you." 

She rolled her eyes and took a sip from her cup. "And what effect is that?" Buffy shivered when Spike's tongue slithered out his mouth and his caught it between his teeth. Specific parts of her responded immediately to his teasing and Buffy felt, with some disdain, her panties becoming a bit too restrictive. Her pulse had already quickened and it was only a matter of time before Spike…

He sniffed the air and Buffy scowled at his smugness. "That effect, luv," he said and nodded towards her lap. 

"Pig," she muttered, and brought the cup in front of her face to hide her blushing cheeks. 

"And you love it." 

This time she smiled. "I love you, ya know." 

Just as she knew Spike would never get tired of hearing it, Buffy would never get tired of saying it. 

_Slam. _

"Guess the love birds 're aimin' for some alone time," Spike said at the sound of the door closing. 

"Ya think?" 

"Oh, me thinks," he said and stood. His gait was predatory as he circumnavigated the table. He squatted next to her and slipped a hand under her dress. At first he went no further than mid-thigh but when Buffy opened her legs just a fraction, he took it as invite to explore her more intimate parts. 

"And now that those two are gone," she gasped when his deft fingers pushed her panties aside, "and the feminine quartet is still at the mall," his thumb swept across her clit, "and the Watcher's MIA," she cried out when two fingers plunged into her, "I have you all to myself." 

Anything he said after that was lost on the slayer as she moved her hips to the timing of his thrusts. One of her hands held his firmly in place between her thighs and the other squeezed her throbbing breasts. Her body was on fire and the presence of Spike, the things he was doing, the things he was saying, only intensified that aching burn within her. Even the part of her that had only once felt his cool flesh's penetration begged for invasion. But as soon as those thoughts materialized, they were cast aside as the pleasure reached its inevitable crescendo and Buffy squeezed her legs together and murmured his name. 

Her spurts came like rapid bursts of machine gun fire, and her body recoiled with each emission. When she started to come down from the high, she felt the sticky proof of the orgasm against her thighs. Still on the high, she stared down into the liquid fire of Spike's eyes and even when he pulled his fingers away from her and she groaned in disappointment, the blaze in her core had once again started to rise. 

It shot through the roof when he licked her essence from his fingertips. 

"God, I love you," she whispered and slid shaky fingers through his hair. 

"You just love my tight, hot, lil bod." 

She chuckled hoarsely and her affectionate perusal of his hair started to lose its innocence. "I love every part of you." She glanced down at the erection that screamed from under his jeans. "And I want that inside me." 

"Well, don't mind if I…" 

"Everywhere inside me." She almost laughed when his eyes bulged and kissed him on the forehead. 

"Even there?" he asked. 

"Especially there." They both stood but never broke eye contact. She saw the need to possess every inch of her in his eyes but he was trying to blanket it with the concern…concern and shame. 

"Buffy, are you sure? We've only done that once and when I did, I…" 

"Hurt me, I know," she said and winced at the memory. It had been during one of their more out of control couplings. Spike had taken her from behind with his usual force, all the while whispering how he wanted to take her second virginity and, caught up in the haze of lust, she had agreed. The lust had been upon him too and he had slammed into her with his entire strength. She had cried for nearly an hour, the pain had been that great. He had never asked again and she knew he still felt guilty for that. 

"I trust you, Spike," she whispered. "I trust you to go slow with me." 

"God, Buffy, I swear I will. Never wanna hurt you. Never. Rather be burned by holy water than hurt you again." He wrapped his arms around her and Buffy melted into his embrace. Being this close to him, this lost in his strength gave her a comfort she had only felt when she was a little girl, sitting on her Daddy's lap as he read her a bedtime story. Buffy never thought she'd feel that safe again, but again Spike had proved her assumptions wrong. 

The knock on the door caught the lovers' attention and Buffy stepped out of Spike's embrace. 

"Think they forgot something?" She asked and absently straightened her dress. 

"Don't know," he said and kissed her on the cheek. "Why don't you go see and I'll clean up this mess." 

Buffy grinned at him. "Wow, am I so lucky. Not only do I have the greatest lover in the world, but he's also domestic, too." 

"I bloody well am not," he roared and swatted her on the butt as she walked away. 

She stopped in the hall and checked the mirror, thankful that she didn't have the 'fresh from getting finger shagged' written across her face. Fluffing her hair once, then twice, Buffy walked to the door and swung it open, a large smile tainting her lips. 

That smile faltered when she saw the man standing before her. 

He hadn't changed much since the last time she saw him. He still had the ruggedly handsome features so similar to Giles. His hair was tinged with a dark gray that matched the well-tailored suit that fit him to perfection. His hazel eyes sparkled with happiness and his lips were turned in a boyish grin. The same grin her mother had always fallen for. 

"Hey, Pumpkin," he said, "I missed you so much." 

Buffy stared at the sight before her in shock. She was vaguely aware of her crushing grip on the door handle and knew it was only a matter of seconds before it broke. But the foggy haze was too much to penetrate and she could only mutter incoherently at the figure before her.

"Daddy?" 

TBC in…**_House of Cards_**


	27. House of Cards

Severed Ties 

****

Chapter 25

__

House of Cards 

__

June 4th, 2002

Evening 

"Daddy?" 

No sooner than the word left her mouth, distantly familiar arms engulfed Buffy. 

"How's my Pumpkin?" Hank whispered in her ear and she nodded dumbly. The seconds ticked away and Buffy remained frozen in Hank Summers arms. How many times over the years, despite her anger and resentment, had she imagined this moment? Her Daddy, holding her like he used to when she was little. When he was so proud of her that she was crushed to his chest or when her little heart was broken from pain or the nasty words of her playmates and she would cry on his shoulder, all the while him wiping away her tears, stroking her hair, and telling her it would be all right. 

Bits and pieces of her childhood danced through her near-catatonic mind and Buffy felt her arms loosen and slide around his waist. 

"That's my girl," Hank said, and the first hint of tears appeared, stinging her eyes. 

"Daddy…" 

"Shhh, now, darling, Daddy's here. Everything's gonna be fine." 

Buffy wanted to scream. She wanted to ask him where he had been all these years. How could he leave his two baby girls in the cold with no calls, no letters? _How could you do that, Daddy, how could you? We needed you, more than you'll ever know and you left us. Left us without turning back. _

Buffy wanted to yell that from the rafters but something held her back. It wasn't until she tasted her tears did she know why. 

Despite all his lies and broken promises, the little girl still trapped in Buffy Summers wanted so bad to believe her father; she wanted so bad for everything to be all right. 

Even if she knew it was a lie. 

~~~

__

Future Time 

He surveyed the room, his four remaining lieutenants before him, eyes hard, postures stiff. They were ready for battle. Frost, whose entire wardrobe was the purest white, just as the blade of the sword strapped to his back. His eyes, usually cool and emotionless burned crimson, telling a tale that Gabriel had no idea how it ended. 

The two Zidiahni, M'ul Aut and D'bahn, did not bother to hide the glee at what awaited beyond the portal. The emerald light from the doorway slid across their razor fangs, highlighting the killing tools in some dire reverence. But their teeth wouldn't take lives; they were strapped with dozens of blades and several firearms, as if they were going into the teeth of hell, itself. And they were, for the mini-army they would face was more deadly than anything this world had to offer. 

And then there was Morrigann. His sweet succubus. Her supple curves peeked out from under the translucent violet of her long skirt and matching blouse. Only her lower half was hidden away by a dark purple thong that matched her thigh high boots. Her multi-colored mane draped across her right shoulder, his most recent teeth marks hidden under the purple choker around her neck. 

"You look wonderful," he said and cut the distance between them although he dared not touch her, lest his concentration was shattered. 

"And I feel even better," she whispered, trailing her fingernails underneath the globes that were her breasts. Her tongue dashed out and traced her purple lips. "Of course, you know all about that, don't you?" 

Gabriel forced himself to breathe but gave her a wane smile. "All in due time, my child, all in due time." Mind focused on the task at hand, he turned away from them and raised his hands, shouting words only heard in the hellish playground that was his home. Energy crackled from his raised palms and the vampire nearly toppled at the backlash. Steadying himself, he spoke louder, challenging the energies to defy him. After an initial surge against him, it acquiesced and the portal expanded until it took up the entire wall. 

"Go," he shouted, "I cannot hold it much longer." He heard the quartet move past him, his narrowed eyes catching a glimpse of them as they passed. Frost stepped through first, swallowed by the green and black tempest of energy. M'ul Aut and D'bahn followed close behind. Last was Morrigann, and before she stepped through, she turned towards him. 

"It will all be ready for you, lover." She smiled, her fangs elongating further than any vampire, before she too was gone. 

He held on as much as he could, unfamiliar with the forces to bend time, until his body refused to go further. As soon as he collapsed, his face hitting the ground, the portal shimmered. The green faded, replaced by the blackness of a void like no other, before it exploded into nothingness. 

But Gabriel saw none of this as the darkness had already claimed him. 

~~~

He'd expected her to come gallivanting back into the kitchen, those sweet hips of hers sashaying back and forth, and tell him that it was no one important and that they could get back to the unfinished business of buggering his lady lover. 

_Doubt she'd appreciate that particular line of thinking, _Spike mused. He surveyed the kitchen and the half-ass job he'd done, fulfilling his promise of tidying up. Oh yeah, he could've done a lot more than wipe off the table and countertops but aside from the throbbing pulse of his libido holding him back, there was that tiny comment Buffy let slip about domestication. 

"I'm no bloody house vamp," he protested aloud, flinging the damp dishrag into the sink. True, he may have been a bleedin heart where she and the 'bit were concerned--well, and Bitlet, of course. He shrugged; might as well throw the two Wiccas in there as well. Okay, he was a complete sop when it came to the women in his life. But it wasn't as if he could help it. Quite the romantic pre and post un-life, he'd always taken it upon himself to see to the women in his heart. He doted on them to no end and never felt the pansy for it. And Buffy was the pinnacle of that train of thought. Oh, he was her willing slave, all right, but that did not mean that he was her, well, _slave_. There was no way in this world that he was gonna…

Spike stopped and took in the task he was doing. He hadn't even paid attention to unloading the dishwasher, placing the mugs and bowls in their respective cabinets. But it wasn't a big deal, the vampire argued. He'd done it that painful summer when he and Dawn spent days on end together, when he and the witches often made dinner. And while Buffy was in the hospital, he and Giles often cooked for the other house residents, cleaning up afterwards, discussing Merry Old England with the fervor only two Brits could achieve. So, this here thing he was doing had nothing to do with being…

Oh sod a dog, he was buggered. No doubt that looking in the dictionary, the 'D' word (which he vowed never to use again) had the handsome, yet panicked and resigned portrait of a certain bleached blonde vampire illustrated as its prime example. 

Muttering to himself the entire time, Spike managed to clear away the dishes. He glanced at the clock and frowned. Buffy had been gone fifteen minutes now without so much as a peep from her. Maybe she was upstairs, planning the stages for his ultimate seduction or maybe she was trying to…

Spike sniffed the air and growled. Something was wrong. Buffy was still in the living room but she wasn't alone. The other scent was bloody familiar in a way but it was his slayer's fear that made his hackles rise. Without another thought, the vampire barreled through the door and into the living room. Two heads turned towards him but he only saw the tracks of tears down Buffy's cheeks. 

"Buffy, what's wrong?" He asked and rushed to her side. He frowned when she shook her head and plastered a genuine, one hundred percent fake smile on, teeth and all. 

"Nothing, William," she said, emphasizing his given name. She laid a hand on his arm, squeezing unnecessarily tight before glancing at the man before them and back to Spike. "I just was talking with my Dad and…" 

"This blighter is your Da?" No wonder the scent was familiar; it was part of Buffy and Dawn. Spike eyes grew cold and he bit back the urge to tear the man in the charcoal suit apart. 

"I am," said the man and he stood. "Hank Summers. And who might you be?" He didn't bother to hide the contempt in his voice and Spike was so close to flashing a bit o' fang but he caught Buffy's pleading look out the corner of his eye. 

"Who am I?" Spike reiterated and glanced towards Buffy. Her eyes shone with something he couldn't quite identify but decided it was shame. She didn't want dear old dad to know that he and Buffy were an item and the sickening feel of being thrust into the closet again had obliterated the anger he'd felt toward Mr. Hank Summers. Well, he was used to this game; thought they were over playing musical chairs but what did he expect?

"Not too tough a question, William, is it?" Hank asked. 

"Actually," Buffy said, and Spike heard the stirrings of anger in her voice, "Spike is my boyfriend." The vampire stared at Buffy in shock and when her lips curled into a shy smile, his love for her grew exponentially. 

"Spike? I thought you said his name was William." 

"Well, Spike's kinda sorta a nickname, right, sweetie?" Buffy said, pulling the stunned (and quite amused) blonde down to sit next to her. 

"What kind of a nickname is 'Spike'?" 

The vampire smirked, confidence boosted by Buffy's admission. Cocking his head to the side, his gaze hardened and he stared through Joyce's former husband. Spike's ears prickled when the other man's heartbeat accelerated and his throat bobbed. _Still got it, _Spike thought and his fingers entwined with Buffy's. He gave his lover a quick smile before leaning over the table and licking his lips. "Do you really wanna know, mate?" 

"So, Daddy," Buffy said and not too subtly yanked Spike closer to her. "What was that you were saying about Dawn?" 

At the mention of his girl, Spike's ears perked and he barely contained the growl that awoke inside his chest. Hank may have been Dawn's biological father--well, truthfully, he wasn't even that--still, Buffy and Dawn's memories said the opposite. The point was that he hadn't been a father to them since they had come to Sunnydale. To show up out of the blue like this was cruel and more than a little suspicious and if he was a betting vampire…well, let's just say that papa Summers wouldn't like to meet the real William the Bloody. 

"Oh, yeah, Dawn," Hank said and his face slid into the ultra chipper mode. _Now I see where the Slayer got that from. _"Well, it's been awhile since I've seen Dawnie and I just thought that she'd like to visit LA for the summer."

Buffy's hand tightened and Spike leaned towards her until she relaxed. "That's…nice of you Dad but I don't know about that. I mean, we already have plans for the summer." 

"What kind of plans?" 

"Well, uh, sisterly type things."

"Like…?" 

Spike snorted. "Don't you get it, mate? They're doin' sisterly things. Don't matter what it is, just that it doesn't involve a Daddy that can't even attend his wife's sodding funeral." As soon as the words left his mouth, Spike was instantly remorseful. Not for the guilty shroud that covered Hank's previously stoic features but the painful reminder he had given Buffy. Spike grimaced apologetically at Buffy and nearly gasped at the pain etched across her face. 

"Buffy, I…" 

"Spike," she said, her voice oddly detached, "do you mind if me and my father talk? Alone." 

Spike started to protest but saw the warning in her eyes and nodded. He stood and, giving a withering glance to the man in the chair, exited the room. 

He closed the door, allowing the night to swallow him. It was dark now and that was all right. It matched his somber mood perfectly. His hands slid into his pockets and Spike sighed. His duster and fags were still in the house and there was no way in hell he was gonna go back in there. He'd muddle through the night, dust a few vamps, break a few necks, throw back a few shots at Willy's and call it a night. He'd take care of the Buffy situation later. 

"Soddin big mouth you have, Spike," he muttered, kicking at the grass on the sidewalk. Yeah, he did put the size eleven Docs down his throat but everything would be fine. Buffy loved him and even if she was rightly pissed at him right about now, she had to accept the apology he was going to give her. There was no doubt there would be--in Buffy speak--major Spike grovelage later tonight. 

The thought of Buffy looking down on him as he asked forgiveness produced a smirk from the sullen vampire. And then, seeing her break into a grin, begging to be pounced upon lifted the vampire's spirits even more. Spike had no doubts Buffy would make him pay but, in the end, it would be all worth it. It always was. 

~~~

__

Early Morning

June 5th, 2002 

It was a little after three by the time Spike stumbled back into Casa de Summers, his blood singing from alcohol and the violence of the kill. His left leg was on fire from the serious gash from where that damn Melzic demon's horn had cut into his thigh. Several ribs were bruised quite healthily and the bleached blonde swore never to jump into the mix with seven recently fed vamps. Well, at least not until the next time the opportunity presented itself. All the light--save for the living room--were off and Spike peeked in smiling at the sight before him. 

Xander and Faith lay together on the couch, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. His Bitlet was on the opposite end with a blanket haphazardly covering her legs, curled into a shell. Watcher man lay snoring in the recliner; a book open in his lap while the telly continued its incessant chatter. Buffy and Dawn were nowhere to be found and neither were the witches. Shrugging at their absence, Spike quietly made his way through the sleep-fest, sliding the blanket over his daughter's petite form before shutting off the telly. 

"Daddy don't go," he heard someone whimper before he walked out the room. He was by his little girl's side in an instant, kneeling in front of her. Faith Joyce's features were bundled in that frown that reminded him so much of her mother's. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and stroked the tender flesh of her jaw. 

"She didn't mean it…" she murmured and Spike whispered soothing words into her ear until the tension died from her limbs. He dropped a kiss onto her forehead and smiled at the jewel that was he and Buffy's miracle. 

"Sleep, Bitlet," he said, and stood up, "Daddy's going nowhere." 

Spike crept back out of the room and when he got to the steps, noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. 

"What the bloody…" He trailed off when the familiar scent of vanilla and crème wafted through the air. "Buffy." She must have heard him come in and gone outside so she could grill him without waking up the others. _Well, Willie boy, let's go out and face it like a man. _

Her back was to him when he exited, closing the door behind her. Her white camisole clung to her tighter than usual and he smiled at his girl picking up weight. A glance down at her striped boxers sent shivers of anticipation through his veins. He knew exactly what was under there and wanted nothing more than to--

The fragrance of fresh tears broke through Spike's inebriated lust and the vampire immediately sobered. He took a step towards her and slid shaky fingers through his tousled locks. 

"Buffy, I…" 

He saw the minute shake of her head. "Don't, Spike." His concern grew at the deadness in her voice. He knew he'd been out of line and she was pissed but her tone was anything but. Yeah, there was resentment in it but she also sounded so…defeated. 

"Baby, look, I know I was out of line…" 

"Don't make me say something we'll both regret, Spike." 

Something in her tone chilled Spike like nothing he'd ever felt. His heart dropped and the insecurities he thought dead years ago, ones more powerful than the doubts about he and Buffy, were resurrected and beat on his chest with sadistic pleasure. His throat tightened in fear and Spike reached a tentative hand out to his lover's bare shoulder. 

"Please don't touch me." 

"Then what do you want me to do?" He yelled, frustration clawing through him. He stalked across the porch and in front of her. He nearly faltered when her hazel eyes glared at him with such loathing and fear, marred by the tears that streaked down her beautiful face. But he refused to be quiet. He couldn't. If he did, he would explode. 

"I fucked up, Slayer, I know that. What I said to that tosser was justifiable but not with you there. I'm sorry, okay. I'm a soddin souless demon. What did you expect from me? That, that bastard hurt all three of my girls, he's lucky I only said…" 

"He wants to take Dawn away." The steam he'd been building up was sucked from Spike's undead lungs and his mouth was agape, staring in horror at Buffy. 

"He what?" 

"He…he showed me the papers. Everything's legal. He wanted to have Dawn there for the summer to get her accustomed to living there. He hoped--" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "He hoped that she would like it enough to stay with him and he wouldn't have to go through all the legalities. Dawnie's really upset. Wills and Tara finally got her to sleep." 

"Buffy, I…" 

"He said that he didn't want to involve the authorities, if at all possible, so he's giving us to the tenth to decide and, if necessary, he would do everything in his considerable power to get her. He thinks that being around someone like you is a bad influence and that this environment is stifling Dawnie's growth." 

Spike's stomach churned but he refused to retreat. "What environment? A place where nearly a dozen bloody people'll give their soddin lives to protect her? Where she's loved more than the soddin world itself. Does that fuck think he can give her all that? Does he?" 

Their eyes locked and for several minutes no words were exchanged. Spike tried to decipher the meaning behind Buffy's clouded gaze but couldn't fathom what he saw. It wasn't until she lowered her gaze that Spike understood. 

"That's okay, Slayer. I understand. It's always me, openin my big mouth, makin promises…promises I can't keep. Good old Spike; he'll never disappoint cause he always does disappoint." 

Buffy's features instantly softened and, for some reason that made it worse. "Spike I…" 

He shook his head. "Save it, Summers. You know, you're probably right. I did fuck up tonight and it probably is my fault that Bit's gonna get taken away." 

Buffy's arms dropped to her sides. "It's not over yet. Giles is--" 

"I let you die, didn't I?" The slayer's shoulders slumped and all the residual anger disappeared from her eyes, replaced with an innate sadness. 

"Spike, I told you that wasn't…" 

"My fault? Bloody 'ell, Summers, I was there! While you were taken care of the hell bitch, my arse was getting kicked by an old, wrinkle-skinned demon, preparin' to be thrown off the soddin' tower while Dawn begged me with her eyes to help her. I let you down. So why should this be any different." 

"Spike I--" 

"Just answer me one question, and for God sakes, Summers, be honest with me." Her throat convulsed but she nodded. "Do you blame me for this, for Nibblet getting hijacked by Pa Summers?" She turned her head and the answer slammed into Spike's chest with the force of mahogany wood. His eyes swam from the unshed tears that accumulated in seconds. Yet they would not fall, so long as he breathed. No, she would not see him cry. Never again.

"Don't bother to answer, luv," he said and turned his back, "your eyes said it all." He took two steps off the porch and stopped. Every fiber in his miserable being wanted to beg her, plead with her to take him back but the sliver of pride that he still possessed refused to give in. "I'm gonna sleep at the crypt tonight. I need some time to myself. I'll be back in a day or so." And, as if it truly mattered, he added, "I promise." 

He forced his legs to carry him to the sidewalk and he consciously ignored the hushed sobs that followed him from the porch. It wasn't until he was halfway down the street that her cries were lost to him. When he reached the corner of Revello and Patterson, Spike's strength gave way and he collapsed to his knees. As his cries rang out into the night, a silent, yet just as loud voice screamed from within, telling him what he'd known since he took that first step away from 1630. 

He was making the biggest mistake of his life. But it had to be done, cause if he didn't walk away now, he never would. And he couldn't bear to be there when Dawn was taken away and Buffy looked at him with hate once more. He just wasn't that strong. 

As the tears finally diminished and Spike was able to stand, he made his way towards what had been his home for the last two years. It would be hell after spending the last few weeks wrapped in Buffy's embrace but it was better than the alternative. Even if Buffy never wanted to see him again, he would never leave this place. That would destroy him just as much as her hatred would. 

He snickered bitterly. _Can't stay, can't go. Just buggered to the core. Ain't life grand. _

Oh, life was grand all right. It was grand, indeed. 

TBC in _Castaway…_


	28. Castaway

Severed Ties

****

CHAPTER 27

__

Castaway

June 9th, 2002 

Late Evening 

"Four days!" Buffy shouted and connected against the orange and gray demon's jaw with a roundhouse kick, sending it to the ground. Before it had a chance to rise, Buffy pounced, her thighs squeezing its ribcage and petite fists, strong as steel, slamming into the dazed creature's sponge-like face. 

"I mean, what the hell is his problem?" She shifted to her feet and, grabbing the helpless creature by the collar, hurled it into a tombstone. The shattering concrete blasted through the air and Buffy flinched. She walked towards the groaning demon and, studying the broken shards, whispered an apologetic "Sorry Mrs. Anderton," before finishing off the demon with a jab to the heart with her dagger. 

Cleaning the violet blood off the blade, Buffy re-sheathed the dagger and trounced off towards the crypt that had been in her thoughts the last week. 

During her thoughts of Daddy Dearest and his less than loving terms he'd set out for Dawn extradition (and he would be back over tomorrow; shit) Buffy had found solace in thoughts of her undead lover. But thoughts weren't enough. She'd needed the comfort of Spike, his arms wrapped around her waist, calming her nerves in the way that only he could do. Her wishes had gone unanswered though. It wasn't that Spike had completely avoided her or anything. True to his word, he'd taken a day to collect his thoughts and returned the night after with only a hint of sadness touching his azure gaze. She saw it right away. So did Jay and Tara. Buffy had no doubt that Dawn would have, too but she was too busy being comforted; first by Spike then by her pseudo-boyfriend, CJ who, by now, if he knew what was good for him, had vamoosed from 1630 Revello. 

"Stop trying to be distracto-Buffy," the slayer admonished aloud. In fact, she'd done a bang-up job _not _avoiding the issue. On three separate occasions she tried to talk to Spike--to apologize, to tell him how she was feeling--to no avail. Okay, so the first two attempts, with flaying arms and rising voice didn't constitute 'talking' but the third time, well, _that _had come off all civil-like. Except for the fact that a certain bleached blonde bonehead was giving her that tolerant smirk that said 'you can say whateva, toots, I'm still right and you know it.' 

_So maybe I was a bit blame-it-on Spike for a second_, she groused inwardly. _But it was only a second. _"And he just _had _to pay attention at that moment, didn't he? He is such a jerk sometimes." She knew she was being unfair, that this entire cock-up was her fault; she had the uncanny ability to place the blame on him for virtually any crime known to man. In fact, he was probably responsible for her working at that Double Meat hellhole months ago. _Don't you mean that he wanted to take you away from that? _

Buffy screamed at the logical reasoning of her inner voice and kicked a headstone, satisfied at the crunch of destroyed property before her emotions settled and she winced at yet another damaged marker, courtesy of the slayer. 

"Sorry Mr. Bennington," she said and strolled a few more yards until the crypt came into view. Buffy's nails dug into her palms and she held her breath, a part of her hoping to see Spike gallivanting towards her, spewing apologies before kissing her senseless. The vision was so real that Buffy licked her lips and reflexively clutched her thighs together. Oh, the feel of him, the way he moved, the coolness of his flesh as it…

"I will _not _ogle at the thought of that…that butthead," she shouted and stomped off towards the cemetery's exit. 

Her heels clicked violently against the street and she was vaguely aware of several people that moved out of the way as she passed. How could she let herself stoop to that level again? So what Spike was hot and knew her body better than she did, she was mad at him and that automatically posted a no-marveling-at-Spike's-tongue ("Oh God right there") whatever he may do with it. Besides, there was so much more to them than just the physical. Buffy stopped as her mind wrapped around that fact. It was the unvarnished truth; she loved Spike and he loved her. He was the only person on the planet that had seen how bad she could truly get yet he never strayed. Spike could go into any club in town and take a different girl home each night if he wanted to, but he never had. Instead, he took her words, accepted her fists and did nothing. Sure his tongue sometimes struck back, cutting her to the quick, but he never disrespected her like she did him. The thought of Spike's loyalty always warmed Buffy, even during those cold nights during winter when she wanted nothing more than to return to the warm light of Heaven. He saved her; he was _her_ salvation. And that's why it hurt so much. 

"Ow," the slayer murmured and squeezed her temples. A headache was settling in, blindsiding her from the corners of her mind. That meant only one thing. "Too much thinking Buffy for one night." Glancing up at her surroundings, Buffy saw that the Bronze was only a block away. It took her a handful of seconds to decide and, shrugging her shoulders, the petite woman headed for the club. Maybe a few sips of fruity nectar: the alcoholic version, could cure her woes. Okay, so she didn't do the drinking thing much but, hell, she was twenty-one now, complete with proof of age--might as well make good use of it. 

~~~

__

The Bronze 

"Bottoms up," Spike said and downed his twelfth shot of the night. Slamming the empty glass on the table, he turned bleary eyes towards the band playing some God awful teeny pop song that grated on his already frayed and infuriated nerves and he was halfway tempted to say sod the headache and bathe in the band's probably oversugar-fied blood. 

"Bloody slayer," he muttered, pouring himself another shot of Yaeger. The little bint always had a way with twistin' his bleedin' insides till they were wrapped around her petite little fingers. Just like she had the last five days. "Can't bloody leave me alone, can ya, Goldilocks?" he whispered to the amber liquid that sloshed in the glass. Yep, she'd been at her best the last two days, confronting him not once but twice, demanding a talk. Her first two attempts had been classic Buffy; demand, yell and chastise. Spike had been well within his right to tell her to sod off, but did he? Nope, he just gave her the trademark smirk, which, he knew, hurled that quick temper of her through the steel mesh that protected the roof. Her tantrum had the vampire in stitches (though he dared not laugh in her face) and he'd expected the same results on her third attempt last night. 

_That's my girl, _he thought, drowning himself in the sting of alcohol. _Always surprisin' me. _And last night, with her quiet words and honest eyes, Spike had been thrown off that unmoving horse of his, toppling to the ground with the force of a troll punting a midget. She'd seen his dishevelment and had gone on the attack, spewing apologies for her behavior the week before. Spike had wanted to believe her, to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless but something stopped him. That blasted, infernal pride--the one that gotten him in countless (and unnecessary) brawls--was the cause. Even now, he was kicking himself, wishing he'd discarded the armor and met her halfway. Instead he'd run. 

"Like the bloody coward you are, mate." He had asked himself for the past twenty-four hours why he'd avoided the conversation that Buffy had obviously wanted to have but had received no answer. How many times had he taunted Buffy and her inability to talk? Now the tables were turned and he was playing Mr. Runaway. 

Spike ran a hand through his gel-less hair, his eyes studying the small remains in the bottle. He shrugged and downed the rest of the contents, frowning in satisfaction as the liquid burned a trail down his gullet. As if lightning, the alcohol restarted something within him, something that had been dormant for nearly a week. It stirred and bubbled, festering through his mind and across his skin with an unquenchable thirst to consume him, drown him. Grasping the sides of the table, Spike shuddered as the phantom energy ran its course until his mind reeled at the blinding simplicity of what had just occurred. 

"What a fuckin' wanker I've been," he groaned. How could he have treated Buffy like that? With all the crap she'd been dealing with the past few days. He'd seen the wear around her eyes, the taint of her kinetic energy that she exhibited even in the direst circumstances. He'd left her side at the exact time when she needed him most. And he was mad at _her? _He had to set everything straight. 

Throwing a wad of bills on the table, Spike stood on shaky legs, as his focus was singular in its pursuits of finding Buffy. He turned to exit the booth and ran into the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 

"Going somewhere, sexy?" She whispered and pressed her ample breasts against him. Spike lost all train of thought as the woman--decked in the skimpiest purple number imaginable--invaded his personal space. Her hands slithered across his hips and up his sides until the stroked his ass possessively. Spike's first instinct was to push her out the way--no, that wasn't true. His first (and continual) instinct was the through her to the ground and shag her into oblivion. His cock was rock hard, threatening to puncture the fabric of his jeans and the mystery woman ground herself into his erection. 

"Do…do I know you?" he asked, ashamed that his voice came out as a choked whisper. 

"No," she said, and with uncanny speed, slid her hand into his pants, "but I'm sure you will." Spike gasped as her heated hands stroked his manhood and he fumbled for clarity. His body refused to respond to anything but her ministrations and his tongue was thick and dry. 

"I…I have a…a someone," he moaned, his breaths coming in razor gasps. 

"Don't worry about Buffy," the woman whispered. She stood on her toes and slid her tongue across his lips. Her twin steel studs were cool against his mouth and Spike parted his lips. "We'll take good care of your lover," she said and plunged her tongue into his mouth. 

So lost in the kiss, Spike never questioned how the woman knew Buffy's name. 

~~~

"I can't believe him. I mean its not like he deserves her anyway; and then he goes and does this." 

"Xan," Faith snapped, "calm down. You know how those two are; bottled blondes full of stubbornness and hormones. But most of all, they're ga-ga over each other. They'll work it out." 

The young brunette rolled his eyes and took a long sip from his glass and his expression soured. Draft never was as good as the bottled stuff. 

"But he could've at least heard her out, couldn't he?" Xander leaned forward when he saw the resignation in his lover's eyes. An opening. "You've known the Buffster long enough to know how hard it is for her to apologize." 

"Ain't that the truth." 

"And with Spike, she's tried _three times._" He held up three fingers to solidify his point and, quite unnecessarily repeated, "Three. And what does he do? Turn his back and walk away." 

"Well," Faith said and her gaze skirted the crowd, landing on the vampire in question. "I wouldn't call those first attempts apologies, shuga bear." 

Xander flushed at the endearment and tried not to show his reluctant agreement. "So she was a bit wound up." 

"Xander, it was supposed to be a private apology and we heard nearly every word after she opened her big mouth." She took a sip of her Corona and, after a thoughtful second, added, "You know, for such a little runt that girl has a set of lungs on her." 

"Faith, baby, focus, here." 

"I am trying to focus," she said and Xander gasp when her hand found the not so dormant bulge in his pants. "That's what I wanted to focus on all night," she whispered, giving him a not so gentle squeeze, "but you wanted to take a girl out, sweep her off her feet." 

"I wanna do more than sweep you, girl," he murmured and leaned over the table. Faith met him halfway and their tongues dueled for supremacy. Xander bit back a moan as Faith magically appeared in his lap, grinding her hips against him, heedless of the throng of people that danced and laughed around them. 

It had been some of the best weeks of Xander's life. Over the past month or so, he and the former rogue slayer had gotten acquainted on several levels. Their physical chemistry was incredible and when they went patrolling, could scarcely keep their hands off each other. It had taken a bit more work to connect mentally and emotionally but he had finally started chipping away the mammoth wall that she had hid behind for so long. Already she'd confessed some of her less than noble deeds during her tenure as the Mayor's secret weapon and had skimmed over the details of her childhood. Twice she had tried to tell him the rest of her history but she hadn't been able to get past the first tears and Xander had spent those nights holding her, promising her he'd be there for her. 

Confessionals hadn't been one-sided, either. Despite going over it earlier, Xander had admitted how hurt he had been at her callous treatment of him that first time years ago. He'd told her about Anya and his time with D'ohbin-Zi in Neverworld (as he called it) and his mountain of insecurities, courtesy of his dysfunctional family. 

"We are two screwed up people, Xand," she had said and he'd agreed. Of course, now his only thoughts were of the best place to go for a quickie. 

"Hey," he moaned when she pulled away. "The lips went away." 

"Didn't you feel it?" She asked, cocking her head to the side. 

"Oh, I do," he quipped, "and from your location on my lap, I'm sure you feel it, too." 

"Not your dick, bozo, the major mojo that just belly flopped in here. It felt like…" Faith grew still and Xander frowned when her eyes widened. 

"Baby, what?" 

"I think I changed my opinion of Spike." Anger roiled in her brown eyes and Xander turned his head, wondering what could have changed her mood so fast. 

"That bastard!" Xander growled when he saw Spike and some woman locked in a feverish kiss. "I'm gonna kick that scrawny ass of his when I…" 

"Oh, God, no. B." The anger was gone from Faith's voice, replaced by heartbreaking sympathy. Xander turned to his girlfriend and followed her eyes to the balcony. 

Face flooded with tears, Buffy stood, staring in shock at the scene below. Even from his vantagepoint, Xander saw his best friend's small frame shaking in grief. "Buffy!" he called out and as if she heard his call, Buffy jumped off the balcony, landing with the grace only a slayer could. She ignored the incredulous stares, pushing past the onlookers and disappearing through the exit. 

~~~

She couldn't breathe and the downpour of grief that bled from her eyes blurred her vision. It was as if a giant hand had ripped a part of her out and she was powerless to do anything about it. Unable to cope, to fathom what she should do, Buffy did what she had always done best. She ran. 

She wasn't concerned where she was going, so long as it was away from him. How could he? Just because they had a fight, he turned to the first piece of ass? And what a tramp. And the way he was letting her kiss him, his hands to the side like some statue while Buffy watched from the rafters. 

When she first saw the skank approach Spike, Buffy had instantly gone on the defensive. Something about the ho just wasn't right but she had stayed, expecting to see Spike turn the bitch down. She had frowned when he didn't, though she caught the slight tinge of confusion in his eyes. But before she could extrapolate his thoughts, the fuck slut had kissed him, groped him and the bastard hadn't stopped her. 

_You sure can pick 'em, B, _a voice chided. She tried to block it out, tearing through the street, her eyes blurry. But the voice refused to go away. _Guess you just weren't good enough, ey? What did Angel say--that you weren't worth a second go. No, that was Spike. Guess he's had his fill, huh? You were never woman enough for him, were you. Hope you see that now. _

Overwhelmed by grief and the cruel words of her own conscious mind, Buffy was unaware that she had returned to Spike's cemetery. She was completely unprepared for the fist that crashed into her chest, sending her pin wheeling to the ground in a flurry of limbs. She gasped for air, the pain in her chest an unpleasantly physical reminder of the emotional scar across her soul. 

"She's a pretty lil thing, eh, 'Bahn?" Buffy's eyes widened as she took in the three figures that towered over her. Two hideous demons (one with no eyes) dressed in trench coats, armed as if they were storming Normandy were to her right. The smaller one leered at her, rubbing its groin with a taloned hand. "Think Gabes'll mind if I give 'er a taste o' my Magic Stick?" 

The taller one shook his head and when he spoke his voice was thunder. "Keep it in your pants, brother, or I shall cut it off. We are not to violate or kill the slayer or her friends. Not yet. And could you _please _refrain from you infantile fascination with hip-hop." 

Properly chastised, the smaller demon straightened, halting his ministrations and muttered, "It's not like it won't grow back anyway." 

"Silence." The word traveled on a cold wind and Buffy shuddered. Her gaze turned to the third figure. He stood, arms crossed over his chest, adorned in the whitest material she'd ever seen. His entire face, save for his eyes, was cover in a hard, white mask whose sharp lines mimicked his voice. Something attached to his back glowed with an effervescent light and Buffy covered her eyes when he reached behind his back and pulled it out. 

"We are not to kill or violate her," that cold voice whispered, "but we have three months till he arrives. Slayers heal quickly…" he trailed off, his crimson eyes burning into Buffy's soul. Her head swiveled to the other two demons as their grotesque laughs sounded in the night air. 

"We're not to kill her," the little demon reiterated. 

"--but there are a lot of things we can do; send her friends a message, ey?" 

The frost warrior stepped forward. Raising the blade of his sword high overhead. Buffy froze, her mind tumbling through the incident at the Bronze and these strange creatures before her. 

"We shall send her, and them, a message. Stand against Gabriel and suffer the consequences." 

The blade of the sword arched through the air, merciless in its decent and, for the first time since her initial fight as a slayer, Buffy screamed. 

TBC in **_Cold…_**


	29. Cold

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 28

__

Cold

A/N: I just want to warn you, this chapter may not sit to well with a lot of people, hell, even I don't like certain parts of it. But trust me when I say that this has been plotted out from the beginning. I usually don't give such warnings but don't want people to think I did this on a whim. Quite the opposite, everything has been carefully planned and these next eight chapters or so are gonna be rough. Just putting everyone on notice. 

June 10th, 2002

After midnight

Sunnydale Arms

"Crap," Hank muttered and turned the TV off, tossing the remote down by his feet. Sundays really weren't days for spectacular programming and, aside from a peculiar show about a girl facing the forces of darkness (whose lead actress bore an uncanny resemblance to his daughter) there was nothing that drew his fancy. 

Of course, his lack of interest may have been due to the unpleasant rumblings of his stomach--a symptom that had only worsened since he'd been in Sunnydale. 

A sigh followed Hank's furtive glance at the reddish glow of the digital clock. 1:17. Less than eight hours before he had to take the short drive across town back to Revello for a meeting he dreaded more than any court case. And this particular opposition? A five-foot and some-odd inch girl barely a hundred pounds and her taller, lankier sister. 

His two girls. 

The older man shook his head. His two girls that he hadn't been a father to for how many years now? Last time he saw Dawnie, she was barely four feet tall and now she looked down at Buffy. He missed so much of their lives and for what? Following a woman around that, in the end, left him for someone younger. 

"Poetic justice, Hankie, that's all it is." Couldn't do much about it now except atone and taking Dawn, giving her a father was the only way he knew how to do that. So maybe they had to go to LA, but it's not like it was that far away. Two hours tops. So why was Buffy making a big deal about it? It wasn't going to be a permanent setup anyway; yeah, he hadn't told Buffy that because he really didn't know exactly how temporary the conditions were to be. A year? Two? Of course, by then Dawn would be of age and probably out of his life at her behest. And if that happened…if that happened…

A knock on the door startled the lawyer from his thoughts and Hank sat up, not holding back the scowl that painted his weary face. 

"Who the hell could that be?" he asked and searched the room for some type of weapon. He settled for grabbing one of his dress shoes and cautiously approached the door as a second knock rang out. 

"Who is it?" He called out, surveying the visitor through the peephole. The large frame of the man on the other side of the door and the poor lighting obstructed Hank's view and he could only identify generously gelled hair and a black leather coat. The other man's jaw was cut as if from stone and Hank's heartbeat picked up a few paces at the sight of a man who looked like nothing more than some gangster's muscleman. 

"Mr. Summers," the voice was cold, unfriendly, "This is Angel, a friend of Buffy's. I'd like to talk to you for a minute." 

"About what?" 

"Buffy." The slight softening of the other man's voice tipped Hank off that the thug and Buffy had, at some point, a special relationship. Coupled with that Spike character and Pike from LA, her taste in men rated quite low on the scale of parental acceptance. 

"What about Buffy?" 

"Mr. Summers," Angel said and his voice had risen a tad in irritation. "Let me in so we can talk." 

Hank chuckled. "Did Buffy send you? Ask you to convince me to change my mind? What is this, my little girl hiring thugs now to date her? First that bleached punk and now you." Hank jumped back when a growl reverberated on the other side of the wooden door but quickly righted himself. Puffing out his chest, he said, "Okay, you tried. Run along and tell Buffy that, okay. And I'll see her tomorrow." 

"Mr. Summers…" 

"I said leave. I don't want to call the police." 

"Mr. Summers," Angel said and there was no mistaking the venom of his words, "it would be in your best interest to open the door." 

"Or you'll what?" Hank challenged and backpedaled into the room. 

"Trust me, Mr. Summers, you don't want to piss me off anymore than I already am." Hank gasped and his heart refused to beat for one excruciatingly long second. In his career, he had faced off with some of the worst people the world had produced. Killers, rapists, armed robbers; they all talked tough and though many of them could back it up, he never really feared for himself. Partially because of the safety around him but mostly because the consensus of a bark being worse than bite was true. That didn't mean that Hank hadn't met anyone that scared his shitless, cause he had. But this guy, this Angel, his voice tore into the lawyer much the same way Spike's eyes had bore into his soul a week ago. He truly believed that Angel would back his words and Hank found himself in a quandary. Let him in and take chances or call the authorities, which, by the time they arrived, could be sweeping Hank parts off the wall...

As if walking towards execution, Hank trudged towards the door. He ignored his shaking limbs as he unlocked it and pulled open his only shield. 

The full site of Angel was even more menacing than his voice and Hank squeezed the shoe in his hand. Angel's eyes followed Hank's trembling hand and smirked, though there was nothing friendly about the gesture. 

"I don't think you'll need that." 

Hank glanced down at his hand and threw the shoe back into the room. 

"Invite me in," Angel said. 

"Huh?"

"Please don't make me repeat myself." Hank nodded and offered the man entrance. A coldness swept across him as Angel walked into the room and Hank Summers knew that if Angel wanted to do something to him, he would be helpless. 

"Now," the young man said and folded his arms across his chest, "like I said, I'm a friend of Buffy's. You and me, we need to talk." 

~~~

"Damn it," Xander swore, "where the hell could she be?" 

"Those lil slayer legs can move real quick, Xand. Especially for B." 

Xander's frown faded slightly and his eyes traveled over Faith's leather-clad legs. "Like those stork limbs of yours, huh?" 

Faith stuck out her tongue. "Bite me, Harris. Scratch that, lick me." 

The brunette man shook his head. "You sure are innuendo filled today…hmmm, I wonder if it's a slayer thing." 

"No, that would be beating vamp's down and, right now a second slayer's boyfriend is gonna get his ass kicked in the near future." 

All levity drained from Xander's body and he tensed with anger, loosening a bit when he jogged after Faith. "That bastard. Wait till I get a hold of him." 

"Ready to test out those super powers of yours, huh," she said and scanned the streets. 

"Well, yeah. I mean, I've already told the gang about 'em but they haven't…hey! Is this a diversionary tactic to get me away from the kicking of Spike's ass?" 

"Yep," Faith said unabashed. "Let's head towards Restfield."

"Faith, she's upset. Do you really think she'd go to slay after seeing her lover macking on a complete hottie from out of this world?" His eyes widened as the words left his mouth and he didn't have to see Faith to know that he was as good as staked. 

"You know," she said calmly (too calmly), "after this is done and I lay the smack down to blondie, me and you baby are gonna have a little chat." 

"I was just sayin' sweetie," Xander said as they ran towards Restfield. 

"And I was just saying," she interrupted, "that we're gonna have a little chat." Faith stopped abruptly and grabbed Xander by the arm. Before he could protest, her lips were on his and he moaned as her tongue demanded his attention. It lasted only a minute before she pulled away and gave his burgeoning erection a tweak. 

"You're gonna learn some respect." She slapped him lightly in the face and took off for the cemetery. Shrugging his shoulders, Xander again followed, a little less mad but still looking forward to the confrontation with a particularly annoying and unfaithful bleached blonde. 

~~~

"Whoa, luv," Spike said and pushed the woman away for the sixth time. "Ease up now." 

Morrigann simply smiled. Although his hands kept her lips from his, nothing could separate the undulations of their lower body as she ground against his erection, pressing him into the wall of the abandoned building. 

"What, Spike?" She whispered, smirking when he shivered at her voice. "I thought said you and your ex were done." Spike lowered his head, trying to hide the shame and grief but she saw it. "I just want to make you feel better." 

"Thanks, pet," he muttered and caressed the side of her face, "but not up for the whole cheer me up routine." He grunted when she squeezed his bulge. 

"I think parts of you are up quite enough. And I think they'd like to be in something, too." 

"Morrie, what are you…?" Spike never finished as Morrigann grabbed his hand and slid it underneath her skirt. She didn't even need to prod him as two fingers slipped into her already wet channel. "God, you are so hot. Pussy so tight." His other hand gripped her ass and Morrigann shivered at the imminent orgasm that…

"Spike!" She screamed and her body spasmed. Her nails dug into his shoulders, impaling the leather of his coat. Her head fell to his chest and she raised her leg and glued it to his hip, riding out the after crests of her peak. 

She glanced up when Spike growled. His cerulean jewels had disappeared, replaced by the bottomless voids of his lust-filled gaze. A muscle in his jaw ticked and she knew that he was still fighting her charms. _His will is great, _she thought. In truth she intended to fuck him on the table in front of everyone. As easily aroused as she could become and though she had seen his face in a vision, nothing had prepared her for the sheer beauty of him up close. Add to that the _feel _of his muscles, the taste of his lips and tongue--only Gabriel and the power he bled into her could compare to this wanton sexual attraction that she had. Even without the plan, she would have seduced and bedded him. 

_Which is taking a bit more time than I thought. _The resilience of the man before her was uncanny. Aside from Frost, who wanted no part of her touch, no man had ever held out so long from her feminine wiles, not even Gabriel. One kiss was generally all it took to have a man at her mercy. And Spike's resistance only made her crave him even more. 

"Bloody 'ell," Spike moaned and tried to push her away. Morrigann chuckled. Each push had less conviction behind it than the previous. He was weakening and though she wanted him now, an idea flashed into her mind and the succubus smiled.

"What's wrong, lover?" She cooed in his ear, lapping at the tender flesh just below his jaw. 

"I need to go," he muttered, his breaths coming in uneven gasps, "I need to see my girl…" 

"I'm not holding you down," she said and nipped the other side of his jaw. The hands that were at her waist cupped her breasts and Morrigann knew she almost had him. But there would be no fucking tonight. No, she could wait. But that didn't mean she wouldn't give him a going away present. 

"Morrig…what are you doing?" But it was too late. She'd already fallen to her knees, dropped his pants, freeing his aching cock and took it between her heated lips. Spike's cries of ecstasy only quickened her pace and her fingers kneaded the cool flesh of his ass. 

"Please, don't…" he whimpered and his helplessness drove her on. She took it all in when she felt him start to shake and her second orgasm began to approach. "Stop, please…Morrigann…please don't…Morrigann!" The feral cry of her name, hands tangled in her hair, pushed the succubus over the edge and as he filled her mouth, her legs quivered at her release. 

Morrigann recovered first, standing on wobbly legs and tucking Spike's flaccid member into his pants. She smiled and licked her lips, temporarily satisfied. Spike refused to look at her. She slipped a finger under his chin and noticed the watery gaze that flitted over her face. 

"What's wrong, lover? Did I not please you?" She slid a hand under his shirt, maximizing contact to further her influence. 

"It's not…it's just…" He took a deep breath. "I just soddin cheated on my woman."

"The woman who blames you for her sister being taken away?" 

He shook his head. "No, that's…no…I have to go. Please, get off." Morrigann shook her head. Still, after making him come he had yet to totally succumb. _This calls for drastic measures. _

"How about this," she said and kissed him chastely on the lips. "I let you go but we meet again tomorrow night. Say, the cemetery?" 

Spike shook his head. "I can't. No…I can't…" 

"Well," Morrigann said, "guess we have to do this the hard way." Without warning, her fangs elongated and she bit down on his exposed neck. 

Spike groaned, at first in shock and then bliss as Morrigann drained his blood, leaving the essence of her power in its place. As they fell to the ground, the blonde vampire in her arms, the succubus laughed. He had resisted her thus far but he would never be able to overpower the spirit of lust now flowing within his veins. 

And come tomorrow night, she'd have him in bed and a nice surprise for that uppity little slayer. 

~~~

"What do you want?" Hank asked and took a seat on a chair, making sure to keep his distance from the vampire. 

Angel smirked. He could taste the other man's fear and, try as he might, couldn't hold back the gleeful roar inside as the demon sampled the potential victim. "I told you, I want to talk to you about Buffy. And, more specifically, Dawn."

"What is it your business? Buffy and Dawn are my children, not yours." 

"If that were the case, then where have you been the last five years?" Hank sagged but held his chin high, defiant. The other man's pride, unable to admit his wrongdoing, infuriated the vampire and Angel roared. He crossed the room before Hank could move and slammed the other man against the wall. 

"What the fuck…?" 

"Listen to me you egotistical, arrogant bastard. You don't know the hell your daughter's been through since she's been here. You don't know her successes, her failures, her fear or her accomplishments. You didn't even have the decency to show up when Joyce died. You never sent a card or flowers, either. Buffy was alone. Her friends were here but they couldn't help her." Angel lowered his voice, ashamed to admit it but said, "I couldn't help her. And you know what? As bad as last year was to her, this past year was even worth. 

"Pay close attention, because I'm only going to say this once. Buffy has done things for us, for this world, that you couldn't believe. She's faced down things that even on your worst nights you couldn't imagine. She didn't choose to do it, but she does it anyway. She's one girl in all the world and she's saved our asses more times than I can count and maybe half a dozen people will ever know that. 

"She doesn't get paid for it, she doesn't get a slap on the back or paraded around the city. But that doesn't stop her from going out there every night. That doesn't stop her from risking her life, for _giving _her life…so that we can live."

Angel lowered a terrified Hank to the ground and wiped his eyes. He took several steadying breaths before looking back up to the shaking man. "I love Buffy, always have, always will. At one time I loved her more than words could ever explain. And I hurt her. Hurt her as bad as any man has hurt her. The only person that has come close to hurting her like that is you." 

"But I…" Hank trailed off and refused to make eye contact. 

"You don't have to tell me, I can see it in your eyes."

"I didn't mean to." 

Angel laughed mirthlessly. "But you did. Doesn't matter what you intended, your selfishness hurt Buffy more than you know. The question is, do you care." 

The vampire saw the fire that lit behind the other man's hazel eyes and he was reminded of the woman that had held his heart for so long. 

"Of course I care. Do you think I enjoy being the louse that I've been in the past six years? Breaking promises to my sweet girls, not being here with them? Every time I look in the mirror, I'm reminded of what I did to my three girls and it won't go away." Hank slid down the wall and dropped his head in his hands. 

Angel squatted in front of the shaking man and cocked his head to the side. He waited until Hank's teary eyes stared back at him before he spoke. "I've found that words are just that, words. I told Buffy once that I would always be here for her and, when we found out I couldn't be there for her the way I wanted, I left. It wasn't until later that I realized how badly I'd hurt her. I didn't mean it, and I did it under the guise of being noble but it wasn't noble. It was selfish. I couldn't have all of her so I didn't want any of her. I never tried to look for a way around the impediments, you know why?" 

"It was easier to just go away…" Hank whispered. 

"Yeah. And I lost her. We still talk, still cordial, but it's not the same and it will never be. I love someone else now and so does she. But there will be a part of me that will always love her and another part that will always feel guilty for leaving her. 

"I was her first love. I can never make up what I did but you can. You may have been gone from her life, Hank, but she does have a father figure. A man that will do anything for her, just like I will; just like her friends. You can't take his place, so don't try. But you can become a part of her and Dawn's life again. But not like this, not by forcing them into something they don't want." 

The tears flowed freely down Hank's face and Angel finally understood. It wasn't that he didn't love his girls or didn't care. His problem was pride and an inability to touch that soft part of himself reserved for 'Daddy's little girls'. But as Hank cried silently, Angel hoped that he could find it for Buffy and Dawn's sake. 

"I just want my girls back," Hank whispered and closed his eyes. 

Angel put a hand on the other man's shoulder and softened his gaze when their eyes met. "Then talk to them; be honest. Don't let your pride get in the way. You've already lost Joyce and I know the guilt of not being there for her will haunt you for the rest of your life, trust me. Don't let that happen with Dawn and Buffy." 

Angel squeezed Hank's arm gently before standing. He walked out the room, his chest a little lighter. He'd never told anyone the guilt he still felt, and always would, for deserting Buffy. He had never gave their love a chance to overcome his curse and would never know if it could've been possible. True, he had Cordelia now and despite his burgeoning affections--no, love--for her, there would be that part of him that even she could not touch. It was and always would be reserved for Buffy. 

He was walking through the door when Hank called his name. 

"Yeah?" 

Hank stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. "That guy, the other one at the house…" 

"Spike?" 

"Yeah, him. Is he the one that Buffy loves now." 

"That would be him," Angel replied, barely holding back the growl.

"Well, I don't like him." 

That made the vampire chuckle. "Well, join the club. No one really does, except for Buffy…and Dawn." 

"So…so he's good to her? Good to them?" 

"Yeah he is." Angel sighed and said, "Unlike me, Spike'll stick around come hell or high water." 

"He won't hurt my girls, will he?" 

"He'd give his life before willingly hurting them." Hank nodded and Angel walked out the room, closing the door behind him. But before the lock clicked into place, his vampiric hearing picked up the lonely whisper of Hank Summers. 

"Well," the voice said, "he's better than me already." 

Angel got in the car and drove away. As the wind greeted his face, he allowed himself to finally admit that the disdain he had always held for the platinum blonde was not contempt but envy. Spike had always transcended what was expected of demons. He did it while running with three of the most vicious vampires to ever roam the earth and he did it now, at Buffy's side. Even with the soul, Angel didn't think he could have pulled it off. 

_William, my boy, _he thought as his drove through Sunnydale. _You're better, all right. You're better than us all. Just take care of her. _

"Like I never did." 

~~~

By the time they reached Buffy, Faith saw the resignation in her sister slayer's posture. Gone was any spark, be it exhilaration or anger, replaced by the downcast guise of a woman thoroughly defeated. Her left arm hung limply at her side, covered with some bright sheen that looked very much like ice. The right side of her face was bloody, her hair matted with the red ichor. A short demon, whose eyes glinted with anticipation of the kill, raked its claws across her midriff and Buffy screamed. Her retaliation was automatic, smashing her knee to the demon's face, sending it to the ground. But as she held her stomach, another creature--it must have been hidden by the tombstones--crept up behind her. It lifted an arm that held not a hand, but a metallic object high, ready to strike the unsuspecting slayer. 

"Buffy!" Faith yelled and lengthened her strides, leaving Xander even further behind. Her scream caught the attention of both combatants and Faith saw the eyeless visage of the attacker. It smiled at her before lowering its metallic arm and Faith noticed a bluish-green fire simmering from the steely surface before Buffy slammed her heel into its side. 

By the time Faith was in fighting distance, the blonde had collapsed to one knee. Sliding in front of the injured slayer, Faith pulled a dagger from her waistband and glanced at the demons that were beginning to recover. 

"B, you all right?" Faith bit her lip when she saw those hazel eyes overflowing with tears and grief beyond what the brunette slayer had experienced, at least from the angle of love. "It's okay, B," she said, not knowing what else to say. "Let me take care of these Piranha-faced fuckers and we'll get you taken care of." 

"Don't bother, Slayer," the eyeless demon said, massaging its ribs, "we have no life quarrel with you."

"Life quarrel?" Faith asked, her hand still on B's shoulder. "What the fuck is that? Some Klingon ritual? Whatta ya know? Even demons have their Trekkie dorks goin' for wholesale. I think there's a convention in LA next week; maybe you two should check it out…Oh, my bad, you'll already be dead."

The shorter demon, with its obsidian hair blowing in the wind had joined its trench coat wearin' brethren. Faith comments didn't sit too well with short stuff and the taller demon held it back. 

"Watch it, bitch," it said, its voice somewhat nasally, not at all like the smooth, rough tone of the other one. "Ask that slayer bitch in your arms; if we wanted you dead, you'd be dead." 

Faith sneered. "Lotta talk comin from you, ankle biter, but I see no action. What? Your boy need his seein' eye dog to hold on to?" 

The resounding growl warmed Faith's blood and she rose to meet what was inevitably gonna turn into a good old-fashion donnybrook. 

"Stand down, D'bahn," said the icy voice of a third party. Faith whirled around and saw a man dressed in complete white glide (she had no other word for it--it sure as hell wasn't walking) towards them. She frowned at Xander's ashen, yet resigned face as he, too, approached. 

"Uh, sorry, Frosty," Faith said and contained a shiver. "But Christmas ain't for another couple of months. Though his mouth was covered, she knew he smiled when the crimson black eyes turned up slightly. 

"I've never had the pleasure of meeting a slayer," he said and regarded the two women with curious eyes. "Not counting Seth's once whore." At the casual reference to her daughter, Buffy jumped to her feet and Faith was thankful that the other slayer was weak cause there was no way in hell to stop that hundred pound powder keg once she got started. 

"You speak that way about my daughter again," she spat through clenched teeth, all the while Faith holding her tight around the waist, "and I will tear your fucking heart out." 

The man bowed in supplication but more surprisingly, he said, "My apologies. Far be it from me to make light of the misfortunes of a prisoner abused by her captor. There is no honor in that; that is the principle reason why I take no prisoners." He cocked his head to the side. "Isn't that right, Alexander?" 

Faith stared at her boyfriend, who lowered his head and said nothing. 

"No matter," the man said, "he knows what I mean. As I said before, this is my first opportunity to meet such warriors that slayers are renowned to be. It will be a pleasure to engage you in a battle to the death when the time has come. Alas, that time is not upon us and shall not be for some time." 

He nodded at his two companions and strode off into the night, stopping several yards away as the other two demons walked on. "Make no mistake," he called over his shoulder, "you shall see us again. And we shall duel. But death shall not come for you until He permits it." 

Faith watched as the sparkling white of the man disappeared into the trees. When he was out of sight, Buffy's tense body sagged and Faith barely had time to catch her before the both tumbled to the ground. 

"B, you okay." But Buffy said nothing. She wrapped her good arm around Faith's neck and cried into the brunette's awkward embrace. The other woman followed her instincts and patted the distraught Buffy gently, stroking the tendrils of blonde hair out of her tear-streaked face. "It'll be okay, B," she whispered, "I'm here, everything's gonna be okay." 

She continued her litanies of comfort and when she braved a look at her boyfriend's face, knew that all her words and assurances held no truth to them. If tonight was anything to base the future upon, shit was about to fall into the realms of a serious cluster fucking of the likes they had never seen. And where the old Faith would have been indifferent to the potential death and chaos, this particular version, the new and improved Faith, was scared shitless. Back then, when she was in league with the Mayor, she'd had nothing to lose. One look at Xander and the subsequent feelings that roiled in her gut--feelings that continued to grow each day--Faith knew she had everything to lose. 

When she realized that her tears commingled with Buffy, Faith understood that, no matter how dedicated she was now to Xander and the Scoobies, even if she gave her all against the coming storm, it might not be enough. And if that was the case, she prayed she was the first to go when the badness finally claimed them. She may have been strong, but there was no way in hell she could watch them taken from her. Cowardice or not, it was the truth. She only hoped it never came to that. 

She wouldn't count on it, of course; hope had a way of bailing when you needed it most…

TBC in **_Estranged…_**


	30. Estranged

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 29

__

Estranged

June 10th, 2002

Early Morning

The distant thunder in his head refused to abate and the longer he ignored it, the faster it closed the gap. After several minutes, it was the only thing he heard. 

"Bloody hell," Spike said and massaged his temple. "Could someone please turn off the sodding fireworks." He opened his eyes and squinted into the darkness. As he adjusted to the darkness he saw the flecks of light that trickled in through the…where the hell was he?

A quick glance around the room and he knew exactly where he was: one cozy little crypt. 

"Home, sweet, home," he mumbled and swung his legs off the tomb. His knees buckled when he tried to stand and the vampire leaned against the concrete structure, waiting for his head to stop swimming. "What the bloody 'ell happened last night?" 

Ignoring the stake firmly lodged between his eyes Spike shuffled a few feet away from the tomb. His legs were still weak--as if he hadn't eaten for a few days--but he didn't topple over. When he thought about it, Spike realized that it had been almost two days since he had eaten and even then it wasn't enough to sustain him for a day. 

"Well, objective one has been determined," he mused and shuffled over to the battered fridge. He opened the door and saw that the pint he bought from Willy's was a little more than a swallow by vampire's standards, but it was the only thing he had. "Bottoms up," he said and devoured the life-giving fluid in a single gulp. 

"Now," he said, ambling towards his favorite (and only) chair, "let's see what's on the telly." Twenty minutes into 'The Price is Right', Spike felt the discomfort in his neck, which, earlier, had taken a backseat to the pounding drums in his head. But without the terrible hangover being so…terrible, the slight throb made itself known. He massaged his tense muscles and was going to pass off the displeasure as a kink from sleeping the wrong way on the crypt. That was until his fingers slid over two small pinpricks. 

"What the bleedin' 'ell," he shouted and jumped to his feet. His first instinct was to run for a mirror but that was quickly squashed. His fingertips traced the healing wounds and Spike didn't need a mirror or anyone else to tell him what had happened. 

Some putrid vamp bit him. 

"When I find that bugger," he roared, searching his mind for a clue on his violator. Oh, no, pain wasn't going to be the answer. He was going to deliver the most vicious, gruesome torture session since the Angelus's spree in Germany in 1895. No, it was going to be even worse than that. The bastard would beg for mercy, he'd keep the tosser alive until he got bored and even then…

It came out of nowhere.

"Oh, God," he whispered, dropping to his knees. Last night returned with a fury, obliterating his thoughts of vengeance. Image upon image of the night's events played through his mind in glorious Technicolor. How she had nearly bloody jumped him in front of the entire Bronze. How he'd told her things about Buffy as they walked the streets of Sunnydale, ducking into an alley when she'd offered to show him something. Oh, she showed him something all right. She'd pressed him against the wall, raped his cock with her lips and tongue, drinking his essence down. He'd tried to fight her but he couldn't. And then, she'd bit him…she drank for what seemed to be hours and he'd grabbed her ass while she did it, whimpering, begging her to stop. Only Angelus had made him feel so powerless, taking his body whenever the elder vampire wished those first few years of unlife. But even then Spike had fought, been beaten and then used. She never tried to force him. Still, it was something he didn't want. He had Buffy for pity's sake, and she--Morrigann--still bent him to her will. No, he didn't want to do it; he told her to stop countless times, he tried to push her off, he…

…Loved every second of it. 

As the remembrance of the pleasure the woman--vampire? --Had given him surged throughout his undead veins, Spike threw up what little blood was in his stomach. He dry heaved for several minutes, ignorant of the tears of rage and shame blurring his vision. He gasped for unnecessary air and when his lungs capitulated, he whispered to the empty crypt words that would haunt him the rest of his existence. 

"What have I done?" 

~~~

__

Early Afternoon

Her eyes traveled between the two sibling demons, their attention fixated on the heated center of her splayed legs. She stroked herself, delicate fingers caressing the unquenchable throb of her sex. The short bastard, D'bahn, grunted her name, intermingling several obscene suggestions as to what they could do to her. The talk only excited her more and when her fingers slid into her moist center, Morrigann cried out and rode the wave of ecstasy. The sight of the room's other two occupants ejaculations spewing from their engorged cocks only added to her arousal and she cursed, knowing that only one thing would alleviate the pulsing need that was always a part of her. 

"Did you hear me, bitch?" D'bahn shouted and slammed his fist into the bed. Morrigann jumped but quickly righted herself. She glared at the heavily panting demon and rolled off the bed. 

"Gee, D'bahn," she said, flouncing to the closet in all her naked glory. "Why don't you yell a bit louder, I don't think they heard you in Quortoth." 

His steps were heavy and he walked over to her, stopping just before their flesh made contact. "Let us fuck you, succubus. You know what we could do to you, make you come and shiver for days. Look, look at this." She glanced down at his impressive member, one that had yet to lose its rigidity, even after his orgasm. She licked her lips and turned her back to him, sliding her arms through the maroon blouse. Its back-less nature allowed her wings to breathe and, if she decided to use them, wouldn't ruin another shirt. 

"That is quite handsome, Zidiahni. It would fit quite well, although," she murmured and bent over at the waist. Her hands squeezed the ripe flesh of her ass and she chuckled to herself at twin groans that sounded behind her. "But I bet you'd have to push real hard to get it into my tightest hole." 

Wood shattered and Morrigann turned towards the sound. The normally calm M'ul Aut held a generous portion of the headboard in his one good hand and the slit where his eyes should have been thrummed with a hazy energy. 

"It is not wise to tease us, Morrigann," he said, his usually smooth voice rough with need. "I like to think myself a master of my own flesh but, alas, I am a demon. There is only so much I can take."

"So what are you trying to say?" Morrigann asked and shimmied into a pair of black hip huggers. 

"You know what we're saying, woman," D'bahn said. He sneered, displaying his brilliant rows of teeth and Morrigann shivered at the violent undertones shuttling through the room. 

"And what are you going to do about it?" She mewled and slid her fingers down her pierced belly and into her unzipped pants.

"Nothing," a cold voice announced and the three occupants turned towards the door. 

"Frost," D'bahn whispered. Morrigann heard the disdain in his voice and hid a chuckle. She finished dressing, carrying her ankle boots to the bed, pleased that even Frost could not completely avert his eyes from her sashaying hips. 

"Well, well," she said and sat down, tugging her boots on. "Frost finally joins the in crowd. So, Frosty, what brings you here?" 

"You know why I am here, woman." His crimson eyes fell across the two Zidiahni, who avoided his gaze. "I know about your power, succubus, and I will not allow our Lord's plans foiled because of your inability to keep your legs closed." 

Morrigann was on him in the blink of an eye and she hid a smile at the gasps of surprise that filled the room. She raised her finger to his face and she laughed aloud when he flinched. 

"Yes, you do know my power, Frosty, and you know what I can do with that. Not even you, with your holy principles of honor could resist. I could have you on your knees begging for me to let you taste me if I wanted." She closed the distance and though he was still, she could hear his hearts beating faster than normal. "And all it would take, oh great warrior, would be a single touch, a single taste of my flesh. Remember that." She turned from him and pulled her hair over one shoulder. Flexing the muscles in her back, she winced as the tattooed wings came to life. They were transparent in nature yet stronger than mesh steel, acting as weapons when the need arose. And from the respect that lined Frost's eyes, her message had been received. 

"Don't forget, boys, I am a lieutenant of Gabriel, just as you are. Do not make the mistake of underestimating me because I am a woman. I may lay on my back often, but you must ask yourself; when I am in that position, who is it that truly has the power?" 

Silence descended on the room and she left the three males staring at her wake. Her lips turned up in a smirk. She knew exactly what Gabriel wanted; she would not ruin it because she needed the release of her throbbing hormones. She had enough control to avoid that. But what she didn't have was the delicious vampire from the night before. Indulging in his body, on his blood, would not corrupt Gabriel's plans. In fact, it would even expedite his timetable. So, yeah, she would have her Spike, every inch of him. He would beg for her, do anything she asked him. 

"But for now," she said and glanced at the three naked men tied to the pillar. "You three should sate me until I can have my alabaster god." She drew fingernails across one terrified man. His breath hitched as the blood pooled from his wounds and when her tongue raked his flesh, he instantly calmed and his desire was visible. 

As she pleasured the three, feeding off the lust generated by the coupling and then their blood, Morrigann focused on the image of the platinum blonde. He had resisted her for quite some time before succumbing and though his will intrigued her, she refused to be satisfied with anything other than his complete subjugation. She would have William the Bloody; she would have his mind, his body and his demon's spirit. 

And there would be nothing he could do to stop it. 

~~~

__

Evening

It took six tries before Spike was able to get up, the burning sensation in his gut frying all neural activities. His eyes had remained on the stone floor beneath him. It was better this way; if he didn't move--didn't think--then maybe the events of the night before would disappear. Maybe it was just a bad dream, some sick vibe from the ether fuckin his mind up and showing him the impossible. He would never cheat on Buffy. _Never. _Nothing could make him do such a thing; no matter how brassed off he was at her. He loved her more than life itself and would do anything for her, even if it were to stay away. 

But he surely wouldn't cheat on her. 

Several hours and two packs of Marlboros later, Spike stood outside 1630 Revello. His hands shook as he stared through the window. It looked as if everyone was present and accounted for, though he had yet to see Buffy through the curtains. 

"How am I gonna tell her this?" he asked the twilight sky. No answer was forthcoming and his shoulders slumped. This was not going to be easy. 

He shuffled towards the door and immediately changed his route, slipping to the back of the house. Coming in through the kitchen would be much easier; he wouldn't have to answer the questioning gazes that would surely intensify the guilt that already threatened to overwhelm him. His hand touched the knob and he stopped; the fear in his blood screamed at him to retreat. Even the demon bade him not to enter the house but Spike ignored it all. Sure, she may stake him and her friends would be all 'We told you so', but he would meet it head-on. 

"Here goes nothing," he said and pushed the door open. 

And walked right into World War III. 

"You're a fuckin liar!" Jay's voice cried from the living room. 

"Jay," Giles said, "why would they lie about it?" 

"Because they hate him. You all do…except for Dawn and Tara, nobody here likes him." 

_Must be talkin' bout me, _he thought wryly before he sobered. From the sounds of the conversation, tempers were high, but what had he done? They couldn't have known about his infidelity, could they? 

"Look," it was Peaches. "Spike's a demon, Jay. Very unique as far as demons go and you know how sensitive he can get." 

"So you're saying he did it?" 

"I didn't say that. What I'm saying is that you should keep an open mind. When Spike gets hurt, he lashes out without thinking. And this may have been the case." 

"Didn't look like it to me," Faith muttered. What the bloody hell was goin on? Spike crept a bit closer towards the room, peeking around the corner. They were all there. Xander and Faith leaning up against the wall, angry scowls etched on their faces. Giles sat in the recliner, glasses in hand, refusing to look at a particularly livid Jay who stood in front of him, arms crossed. 

"Well, _Faith," _the young woman's voice was filled with a dangerous version of Buffy sarcasm, "considering that you're always looking at my Mum's men, who knows what you actually saw." 

"And I suppose I was seeing things, too, huh Jay?" Xander asked and pushed himself from the wall. 

"Xander," Cordelia said. She sat on the couch, next to Willow and Tara. Angel stood with his hand on her shoulder and Spike slipped around the corner when his Sire's brow scrunched in concentration. 

"No, Cordy," Jay said, "let him talk. I mean, from what I understand, Xand, you've been tryin to get into my Mum's pants for how long now? And you haven't got far have you?" 

"Jay, that's not fair," Willow said. 

"And this would be the perfect opportunity to get her…" 

"Jay…" Faith warned. 

"…cause you know, if Daddy did that, she'd be all hurt and in need of comforting…"

"Jay, please," Giles said. "This is unnecessary." 

Tara spoke up for the first time. "Don't, Jay. We're not gonna gang up on him. We'll hear his side of the story." 

Xander snorted. "I already know the bastard's side of the story. Tonguing it with a Cyndi Lauper wannabe when the woman he supposedly loves is crying her eyes out, nearly getting herself killed." 

_What? Buffy, what happened to my girl? _

"…and this is the perfect chance for you, huh. Can't get to her unless she's defenseless." 

"You know I'd never do that," Xander shouted. 

"So when you cradled her in your arms, carried her upstairs, you mean to tell me you didn't get a hard-on? And don't lie to me, Xander; remember, part vampire here." 

Xander sputtered and Spike glanced around the corner. The whelp and his daughter were toe to toe now and if it weren't for the seriousness of the situation, he would have found it quite amusing. 

"I have Faith now, Jay," Xander said, his voice eerily calm. 

She shrugged. "So. You had Cordelia, too and look what happened there…" 

"Jay," Willow said but she was interrupted when Faith's palm slammed into the petite woman's face. 

"That's enough," Spike roared and rushed to his daughter's side. Her face was set in a harsh scowl and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But when she saw him, the floodgates burst and she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

"Daddy!" She cried, burying her face in the cotton of his shirt. Spike wrapped the young woman in a leather embrace, blocking out the accusing stares that burned through his cold flesh. He kissed the top of her hair, whispering comforting endearments that only a Daddy could. 

When she had finally calmed, Spike pushed her away and nearly choked at the trust and loyalty in the cerulean green eyes. He brushed the residual tears away from her cheek and stepped back. 

"It's not true, Daddy, is it? Xander and Faith didn't see you doing that, did they?" Jay's pleas broke his heart. She sounded so much like a child, not like the twenty-three-year-old warrior she truly was. He wanted to coddle her, tell her that he didn't do that, anything to wipe that look of reserved despair from her eyes. But more than that, he wanted to tell her the truth. 

"Jay…" 

"C'mon, evil undead," Xander taunted, "tell her how you didn't shove your tongue down that woman's throat." 

"Xander," Angel warned and grabbed the brunette's shoulders. "Let Spike explain." Brown eyes turned towards the platinum blonde and any bravado he had disappeared under Angel's heavy gaze. 

"Daddy…?" 

"Bitlet, I…" but he couldn't finish, the guilt burned a hole in his vocal cords, rendering him mute. He hung his head, refusing to look up even when he heard the horrified gasp and the shuffling of feet that was quickly followed by front door nearly torn from the hinges.

_Smack!_

Spike reeled from the slap and stared up into Dawn's hurt eyes. She had been silent during his eavesdropping but his wordless confession had drawn her ire. 

"You bastard," she spat, "how could you?" 

"Dawn, I…" 

"She loved you and you betrayed her like this?" she shook her head and let out a hoarse laugh. "You know, I didn't say anything cause I didn't think I had to. Jay was there for you, defending you. Hell, even Angel gave you the benefit of the doubt…" She stopped and wiped her teary face. "I trusted you Spike. Not with my life--I still do, I think--but I trusted you with Buffy's heart. I knew you'd never hurt her like Angel or Riley or, hell, our Dad. But you did. I hope you're happy with yourself." And with that Dawn left the room. Her heavy footfalls sounded all the way up the steps before they disappeared. 

"Guess the wonderful Spike isn't so wonderful after all," Xander snorted. 

"Xander, that's enough," Giles said and stood. He approached the vampire and Spike's shoulders slumped. _Here it comes; stake to the chest. Rupes'll do it well. _

"While I do not know the circumstances of your behavior, Spike, I do know the ramifications of your stupidity." Giles closed the gap further and Spike saw the glint of Ripper behind the glasses. "I love Buffy--we all do--and we abhor her in pain. Even more, we detest those that cause her pain. And since now that person is you, might I suggest you vacate the premises before I resort to actions that, albeit may be justified, we shall all regret." His peace said, Giles turned his back and that hurt Spike more than the vampire thought possible. 

Spike's eyes brushed across the room and memorized everyone's face. Xander's disgust, Faith's anger, Willow's anger and confusion, Tara's sympathetic frown. Cordelia scowled at him, a mannerism imitated by his Sire. 

"Guess this is goodbye then," Spike said and started for the door. "I'll be around, still, until this is taken care of. Just let me say my peace to Buffy." 

Before the room could interrupt in protests, Angel grasped Spike around the collar. "No, you won't, Spike. Not now. She's hurting and going to see her now will only hurt her--the both of you--even more. Get out of here. She'll see you when she's ready." 

He dropped his hand and Spike was almost to the door when Angel called him. "Oh, and Spike?" The blonde didn't turn around but felt Angel's cool breath on the back of his neck. When had he even moved? "We will settle this up, you and me. Don't doubt that." 

Any snarky retort died before it was formed and Spike walked out of Revello without another word. He shivered when the door slammed shut. It was eerily familiar to the feeling that ran through him; like he'd just been closed out on the only things worth living for. 

~~~

She knew he was there before they did. Even with cries drowned out by the pillow she muffled her sorrow with Buffy still felt that tingle at the back of her neck when he stood outside her window. Although a part of her wanted to see him, needed to feel his arms around her, the other part, the scorned part of her, hurt so much by men, wanted nothing to do with the bastard. 

"Go away," she murmured into her pillow. The distance between her and the others muted their words but she heard the raised voices and when the door slammed, she knew Jay had left. Several minutes later the stomping of a certain brunette's feet sounded throughout the house and Buffy almost chuckled at Dawn's behavior. When the door opened, Buffy feigned sleep. Dawn crept into the room and stared over the motionless slayer. After several minutes she leaned over and kissed Buffy on the cheek. 

Buffy sat up when Dawn's own door clicked shut and glanced around the room. Willow and Tara had given it up to her after she'd come home from the hospital but it had only been a temporary thing. But last week the two had told Buffy of their plans to move out after this latest threat was settled. Although she was sad, the prospect of her and Spike having their own room made up for that. In fact, they had already planned how they would christen the room as their own. But now all her dreams had been crushed by one moment of indiscretion that had probably turned into something more when she left. 

_I should've confronted him _she thought and stood up. Aside from the pain that lanced through her being, the guilt for not talking to Spike, letting him go and probably…sleeping with that other woman, was her intimate companion. It must have been her fault that he went to someone else. After all, they always left her and she had given Spike his fair share of reasons this past year, including her behavior when her father was here; he'd only been trying to help and she dismissed that. No, it was definitely her fault. 

She walked to the window, her step devoid of any spark. That spark flared when she saw him looking up at her. His posture matched hers exactly; hands at his sides, shoulders drooped and the despair washing off him in waves. Buffy's first instinct was to go to him, to hell with what she saw. She wanted to hold him and give him her love. She wanted…

No. It didn't matter what she wanted anymore. As if from the ether, her spirit returned, full of fury. Spike had hurt her in the worst way possible and he wouldn't get her sympathy. It was his fault, his fault damn it, not hers. She was a good woman who deserved to be treated right and she wasn't going to let some undead bottled blonde make her doubt herself. 

An eerie calm settled over Buffy and she cast forth her most menacing glare. If possible, Spike's shoulders sagged even further and before he turned away, Buffy thought she saw tears cascade down his cheek. She refused to acknowledge it, however, and stared at his retreating form, the familiar hard shell heart driving away the grief. But even as Buffy allowed the slayer part of her access to the woman, something in her screamed that it was a mistake. It wasn't the slayer that would win this battle but the woman whose heart belonged to a soulless vampire. And without that human part of her, everyone on the planet was going to live the rest of their lives in a world of pain and misery. 

But for the first time in her life, Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, didn't give a damn. 

TBC in _Shallow Cuts…_


	31. Shallow Cuts

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 30

__

Shallow Cuts

June 14th, 2002

Late night patrol

"Buffy, down!" Faith shouted and the blonde slayer didn't hesitate to comply. The pipe whooshed over her head and Buffy countered, ramming her elbow into the vampire's gut. He dropped the weapon, doubling over in pain and she followed up with a leg sweep that put him onto his back. Not wasting time, she slammed the stake home and watched the yellow eyes widen before bursting into soot and ash. She brushed the residual dust away from her eyes, coughing a bit as she stood up. 

"Not bad, B, but you know you're cuttin' it close. He almost took your head off with that pipe there." 

Buffy shrugged and walked away from the scene not looking back to see if Faith was behind her. "I got the job done," she said and slid the stake into the band of her jeans. "No big." 

"No big? B, if it wasn't for my big ass mouth, that vamp would've been playin' cricket with that noggin of yours. And your brat of a sister would whine me to death, not to mention that blondie boy of yours; he'd find a way to kill me even with that chip lodged into his skull."

At the mention of Spike, something in Buffy's stomach clenched and she bit down on her lip to prevent a sob from escaping. It had been four days since Spike had shown up at Casa Summers and been unceremoniously cast aside. Four days since Buffy's heart, ripped and shredded, had slunk behind the near impenetrable wall of her slayer spirit. She hadn't cried since she had watched him walk away and any mention of him was met with casual indifference. She was not going to let him break her heart. And if she went to him now and welcomed him back into her arms, it would only be a matter of time before he'd lose interest and do it again. After all, he was a demon. 

"Earth to Buffy," Faith said and snapped her fingers in Buffy's face. 

"You don't have to get all up-close and personal," Buffy said, slapping her sister slayer's hand away. 

"Well I wouldn't have to if you didn't go all Slayer Space Cadet on me." When she didn't respond, Faith jumped in front of Buffy and she gave the brunette an annoyed glare. 

"Do you mind?" Buffy asked and put her hands on her hips.

"In fact," the other slayer said and mimicked Buffy's pose, "I do mind." 

"Well, you're young," Buffy muttered and swerved around Faith, "you'll get over it." 

Faith grabbed Buffy's arm and the blonde cocked her fist back, ready to strike but the surprise in Faith's brown eyes was enough to shock her back to reality. She pulled her arm away and lowered her head, refusing to let Faith see the confusion and fear that hid behind her hazel jewels. 

"Are we back to that now, B?" Faith whispered and the hurt was unmistakable in her usually confident tone. "Damn, thought we were better than that." 

"Well you thought wrong," Buffy spat and stalked away with false certainty. She walked faster when she heard Faith jogging up behind her. 

"It's not gonna work, B." 

Buffy sighed. "I know it won't. Cause, already, two minutes in and you talking in riddles is getting old." 

"You know what I'm talkin' about," Faith said and cut her off again.

"I know that the brunette roadblock routine is _really_ getting old. Don't you have a job as, oh I don't know, a Chosen One?" 

Faith laughed and Buffy stepped back, unprepared for that particular reaction. Faith slid her fingers through her hair and glanced up at the sky, puffing out a weary breath before she found Buffy's gaze. "Are you gonna ever talk to him?" 

Fire spread through Buffy's chest and she consciously stilled her hand that wanted to push away the pain still inside her. She tried to put on the cloak of indifference--hell, she'd done it for the past week--but it was too late. Faith saw the chink and she pounced on it like some blood starved vampire. 

"He still loves you." Buffy laughed and it sounded forced, even to her. She looked at Faith and the compassion in the other woman's eyes was almost enough to undo her. She inhaled sharply, and sat down on the nearest headstone. 

"Doesn't matter," she whispered and Faith plopped down next to her. 

"Why not?" 

"Cause, he's a demon, a vampire. It's in his nature to be bad and it'll only be a matter of time before he does something worse…something to…" 

"Something to what, B?" 

"Something to make me kill him. That chip's not gonna last forever and when it goes the way of the hula hoop, he's gonna be right back to looking at humans as nothing more than 'Happy Meals with legs'."

"That's bullshit, B and you know it." 

Buffy was taken aback at the vehemence in the other woman's voice and too a few moments to right herself. "If you think that much of what I have to say, then why are we sitting here…" Buffy started to rise but stopped when Faith lightly touched her hand.

"B," Faith said and there was no mistaking the pleading in her tone. Buffy capitulated, making a show of it, concealing the way her legs had started shaking at Faith's outburst. 

"Listen, B, saying that we've never been close is kinda/sorta the understatement of the, well, of the Hellmouth." 

"I'll say…" 

"And though we may never be buddy-buddy like you and that Red head Wicca lover of yours, I think we can…" 

"We can what, Faith?" Buffy said and stood up. Her heart was racing and Faith's words and actions, so unlike the brunette bad ass, unsettled Buffy more with each passing second. "You think we can go to the mall, try on each other's clothes? How about we sit in bed and eat ice cream, dishing about our guy problems. I'm pretty sure that as much as you've gone after my men, you'll have something to say."

The pain returned to Faith's eyes but it was quickly covered with understanding. "It's not gonna work, B. You ain't gonna set me off with that barbed tongue of yours. If prison's taught me one thing that's to look past the talk and go for the real meaning. Well, that and watch for the bitches that lick their lips when you walk by." 

An unbidden chuckle escaped Buffy's lips and she sat back down next to the other woman. They said nothing for a few minutes, allowing a comfortable silence to fall over them. Buffy gazed at the partly cloudy sky; she could still make out Orion's Belt, Cassiopeia and a few other constellations that she couldn't remember the names of. Spike had taught her their names one warm December night. They had fuc…been intimate on top of the crypt and lay there for hours afterwards. It had been one of the few times she had let Spike hold her. That night she had felt like they were a real couple…and it had scared the shit out of her. 

"You still love him, Buffy," Faith said and at the sound of her full name, Buffy whirled around. "Don't deny it. You can give everyone this tough girl attitude and they might buy it but I sure as hell don't. Shit, I'm the queen of tough talk to hide the shit I don't want nobody to know. And I know you're hurtin', B, hurtin' real bad."

Buffy shrugged. "It's not like I shouldn't have expected it. After all…" 

" 'He's a demon'. Yeah, whatever. You say you should've expected it, B, but the real bitch is that you didn't expect it." Buffy's shoulder's slumping was her answer and Faith took it as such. "You say these things about what you expect from Spike but they're only words; in truth, you trust him and expect him not to hurt you." 

"Yeah," Buffy murmured. "Real bright." 

"No," Faith countered, "Real human. And for all your talk, that's what you see Spike as and you know what? That's how you should." 

"Are you forgetting the lumpies he gets? The slight allergy to the sun? The pointy teeth?" 

"Doesn't matter, B. Spike may be the walking dead--or, undead, I guess--but he's more human than ninety-five percent of the swine that inhabit this floating rock we live on. And if I know that, then you sure as hell do. 

"What Spike did, Buffy had nothing to do with him being a vampire. That was just him being an ass and thinking with his dick. And as pissed as I am at him for doing that to you--as much as I wanna pummel him for hurtin' my girl, I know he's sorry, B. I may not have offered him much support the other day but I could see how bad he ached from hurtin' you. Even more, I see how much his absence is affectin' everyone. Not just you but Jay and Dawnie are hurtin big time. They put Spike on this pedestal where he could do no wrong and when he shows that he is human--more or less--they don't know what to do. You have to help 'em with that." 

"What can I do?" Buffy whispered. 

"Everyone's waiting for your lead, B. Hell, even that cutie pie of Willow's is waiting for the green light to do the empathetic comforting'." 

Buffy didn't reply and she tumbled Faith's words over in her head. She was right; Jay and Dawn were both obvious in their pain. In fact, the former had disappeared for two days after the initial revelation, complete with a new tattoo and several piercings. She was up and down; often blowing up at the gang for the smallest things while Buffy had heard her crying when Jay thought no one was around. She'd tried to comfort her but Jay would only pull away, making herself scarce for another hour or two. 

Dawn, when she was around, treated Buffy like a goddess and it made the slayer uncomfortable. Her doting reminded Buffy of that first night back from the grave where Dawn led her around, making sure she was taken care of. She knew her little sister meant well but it was often a relief to her when Dawn would go out with CJ. Although Buffy was still leery about the young man, she couldn't deny his positive effect on the teen and Buffy vowed to have a chat with the two young people soon. 

When Faith stood, stretching her arms to the sky, Buffy realized she had purposely drifted off from the real problem: Spike. Even the thought of his name was accompanied with the feel of being gutted. Seeing him in another woman's arms--a woman _much _prettier than her--had crippled Buffy's confidence and she didn't know how she could face him without it. He loved her because she was strong, Buffy knew that much. How would he be if she went to him and fell apart? He'd probably placate her with false words and, yeah, he may try to make an effort to make it work but in the end, he'd leave her. They always did. 

"I think it's time to go, B, don't you think?" 

The slayer shook her head. "Nah, not yet." She smiled at Faith and it almost reached her eyes. "No way in hell I'm gonna let you out do me tonight." 

The brunette bounced on the balls of her feet with a renewed vigor. "Well, we still got half the night; think you can make up the three dust deficit in that time?" 

"Damn straight," Buffy said and brushed off her jeans. 

"Then whatcha waitin' for? Let's get crackin!" Faith shot off into the darkness, a blur of leather and attitude. Buffy swiveled her neck from side to side before taking off after the other woman. As her legs carried her through the cemetery, Buffy couldn't help but realize the truth in the brunette's words. She did expect Spike to be there for her, not to hurt her. She didn't look at him as a vampire but a man. And as a man she loved, he had the keys to her heart and regardless of his love for her, he would hurt her. There was no way around that. The thing she had to understand was that people that loved you hurt you all the same as those that didn't love you. The difference was that it took much less for someone in your heart to cause pain. In the grand scheme of things, it was only a kiss. But that kiss had cut Buffy deeper than any betrayal she could remember. It may have been a shallow cut, but Buffy Summers knew all about those. 

They always ran deepest. 

~~~

Stars danced behind Spike's closed lids when his head slammed against the unforgiving concrete pillar. When he opened his eyes, feral crystals stared at him, replacing the usual brown orbs that accompanied Peaches' holier than though glower. 

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't bash your face in." 

Spike wiped the back of his hand against his lips and stared at the blood that tainted his alabaster flesh. His eyes met Angel's and the blonde slowly ran his tongue along his blood-coated knuckles. As he suspected, the ensouled one pushed him away in disgust. 

"Knew that'd get you," Spike said and slid down to the floor, his legs no longer able to maintain the weight of fatigue and guilt. Angel's boots clicked against the crypt floor and Spike forced his eyes up. He wasn't disappointed at the contempt-filled sneer that greeted him and it didn't take much hypothesizing to know that Angelus was uncomfortably close to the surface. Course bein' all souled up as he was, the ponce wouldn't do much at all. He'd talk tough, throw a few punches but nothing that the slayer hadn't done to him last year. Hell, Peaches probably wouldn't even break the skin. 

"Did you hear me?" Angel growled and Spike refocused. He hadn't slept in four days, prowling the cemeteries at night and the sewers by day, trying to find the bitch that had ruined his unlife. Well, that and the small fact that he was desperately trying to avoid any of the Scoobies. He couldn't face them, not after the last meeting. How they had glared at him…how his Bitlet had ran out without another word. They didn't even listen to what he had to say…just…

"So what do you have to say Spike?" His eyes widened at Angel's question and he realized he'd spoken aloud. Angel approached, hands clasped behind his back and stopped a foot from where Spike had his knees drawn up. 

"Don't make me repeat myself, William."

"Oh, sod off, Peaches." For some reason, the use of his given name had struck the wick of his ire and Spike sprang to his feet. He stood toe to toe with the larger man, fists balled at his sides. "What do you want, anyway?"

Something in his voice must have resounded with the brunette because Angel's eyes softened. "Why'd you do it, Will? I know what happened when Hank was there, what Buffy said. But were you hurt that bad--was your pride so damaged that you had to hurt her, get even with her?" 

"You don't get it, do you Peaches?" Spike shook his head and turned away, his anger fading as he remembered the icy hazel glare he last saw four days ago. "When it comes to her, I have no soddin pride. Yeah, I was 'urt that she didn't think I was good enough to listen to but not enough to get back at 'er. Bloody fuck, Angel, she nearly beat me to death in an alley a few months ago! If anything, I'd 'ave gotten 'er back for that." 

"No you wouldn't, Will," Angel whispered. "You can take pain, you can take punishment but when someone hurts your heart, that's when you hurt back."

"You should know," he mumbled and Angel turned away, shame clouding his eyes. 

"Yeah, I should. And after all the…things I did to you those first few years, the only times you really tried to kill me were the times when I cut you with my words."

Wasn't that the truth! After the first few weeks of physical torment, Spike had grown used to the pain but words? He'd never been able to block them out, turn off his emotions. He'd done it then and he'd done it recently…but he'd never…

"I'd never fool around on Buffy, Peaches, never." He walked over to the sarcophagus and leaned on it. He laid his head against the cool stone and stared at the ceiling. The sting behind his eyes refused to dissipate but he wouldn't let them fall. Not in front of the poof. He'd run out at noon completely starkers before he did that. 

"So what did Buffy see? Did she just, I don't know, imagine it all." Spike nearly laughed at Angel's turnaround. All sympathy was gone from his voice and back was the accusatory tone of Buffy's knight in shining bloody armor. And poofy hair. 

"I'm not Buffy," he replied indignantly, "so I don't know what she saw." Spike doubled over when the knee slammed into his stomach and his spine shivered when a powerful hand cuffed him in the back of the neck. Angel grabbed the collar of his duster, yanking him backwards and Spike looked into the face of white-hot rage. 

"Don't you ever sass me like that again, boy." 

"Or you'll what?" Angel's hand slammed across Spike's eyes and everything disappeared into a brilliant haze of pain and distorted light. He pushed away from Angel's grasp and the elder vampire let him go and Spike flopped to his knees. "Buggerin' 'ell, Peaches. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Angel answered the blonde's question by slamming him back against the pillar. Spike's first instinct was to fight back but, given his exhaustion and constellation-seeing vision, he didn't stand a chance. Of course a part of him would have welcomed an ass kicking and more. 

"Why did you do it, you prick? You have the most wonderful girl in the world giving you her love--why I don't know--but she is…and you throw it away by doing something like this. You're dumber than I originally thought, _William."_

"Oh my," Spike said and snorted. "Buffy Summers own knight, riding in on his high horse. Whatcha gonna do, hero? Come to 'er rescue again before gallivanting off into the sunset again, making sure she can't follow?" 

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

"I know you better than you think, Peaches. You're tryin' ta pin your mistakes on me." 

"You don't know what you're talkin' about." 

"Don't I? Yeah, I hurt her and I probably won't forgive myself for it…"

"You don't feel guilty. Hell, you don't have a soul…"

"…But you haven't even tried to hear what I have to say. You just come in and shove me around. Oh, you ask the questions but you don't wanna know the answers, do you? You already know 'em." 

Angel shook him but Spike could tell his heart wasn't in it. "You were always good at distraction, Spike. Guess some things never change." 

"Just like you always doin' the selfish thing? Face it, Angelus, the soul didn't change that. You're still the self-involved, self-centered prick you were back before the gypsies mojoed you with that shiny, happy soul of yours. But now you do it under the pretense of atonement."

Angel dropped his hands and for a minute Spike thought he was going to be having an intimate conversation with Mr. Fist. But Angel never struck; he stood in front of Spike, his body quivering from anger. 

"Shut up, Spike, before I shut you up permanently." 

"Admit it, Angel face, if it weren't for the chance of becoming human--oh yeah, I know about that Shanshu; 'm not as dumb as you think--if it wasn't for that, how much life savin would you really do?" 

Silence settled over the crypt and blue eyes battled brown. A myriad of emotions crossed Angel's face and Spike didn't know what to expect. He'd been comfortable in assuming that Angel wouldn't harm him too much because of Buffy--but now? He knew enough about Angelus to know that even that foul beast, so calculating and in control even in his madness, had certain breaking points. And it sure as hell as Spike had splintered that right over his knee. 

But nothing happened. After several long minutes, Angel whirled on his heels and walked to the door. He stopped and glanced over his shoulders and even at this distance Spike knew he shouldn't listen to what was going to be said but he couldn't help it. 

"You're wrong, Spike. I help people because it's the right thing to do." Even as he said it, Spike heard the sliver of doubt in Angel's tone but his next words harbored no such reservations. "But you're right about one thing. I am Buffy's hero. It's not you, Spike. It will never be you. You're beneath her." 

Rage flooded Spike and he roared, slamming his fists into the stone pillar repeatedly. Concrete crumpled under his fists along with bone but he didn't care. All he felt was the jagged knife that Angelus wielded like a surgeon. After several minutes, he fell to his knees, oblivious of his shredded knuckles. His breaths came in heavy gasps and as the weariness crept back upon him, he gave up the battle and allowed the tears to flow freely. 

Fucking Angel. Always had to get the last word in; always had to push the knife in a bit deeper. Oh, he knew how to hurt with maximum efficiency but what tore at Spike the most was that, despite the cruelty of Angel's parting shot, the souled vampire was right. Spike was beneath her. Always would be. He knew it'd be best to stay away from her; he could only bring her down. But he wouldn't--couldn't--do that. She was in his blood deeper than anything he thought possible and he would be there for her till the end. 

And Spike had the nagging feeling that the end, at least for him, was closer than he was willing to admit. 

~~~

"See?" Dawn asked, holding her shirt up. CJ's eyes studied the flat expanse of her taut flesh and she shivered when his fingers traced the minute remnants of that night on the tower. 

"I see," he replied and pressed his lips to the faint scars. Dawn shivers had the makings of full-blown convulsions if he kept doing that, especially when his hand pressed into her back like that. 

Dawn closed her eyes as his tongue carved a path up her body and she barely registered her top being pulled over her head. She groaned when he stopped touching her but that was quickly rectified when he latched onto her pulse point. She laid back into his bed and he plastered himself next to her, never breaking his ministrations. One hand stroked her hair and the other journeyed across the peaks of her breasts to the valley of her navel. He toyed with her waistline and her hips had a mind of their own and she slowly thrust upward until he got the hint and…Hello!

"CJ," Dawn whispered, unable to do more than grunt his name as he did such--ohboyohbohyohboy! --good things to her. Her pulse hammered through her body and she was torn between succumbing to the foreign yet completely natural feel of his touch, and her terrified mind that screamed that she wasn't…

"Oh, God," she moaned when his deft fingers found _that _spot. Her thighs quivered and squeezed his hand between them as she rode the unfamiliar crest of something that was indescribable with words. Her entire body was inundated with wave after wave of pleasure, crashing against her sex, desperate to smash through the barricade that held them back. When CJ's lips closed around the base of her neck and tweaked her sex, Dawn fell…

_Darkness surrounded her yet she didn't need sight to tell her that this was hell. This was a hell unlike any other. It was eternal and no Key could help her escape. But that thought didn't scare her. It was the knowledge that she'd never seen them. As painful as that was, however, she would do it all again. To save those closest to her, to prevent them from dying, to know they would be proud of her. To be rid of the pain of living. She was free…_

She frowned when the void that pulled and tugged at her, the shroud that tore at her conscious mind and the hands that eagerly groped at her disappeared. A light unlike any she'd ever seen shone a lifetime away and she reached out to it. As if sensing her, the light brightened, expanding until it illuminated the nothing that surrounded her. She floated towards it, ignoring the hideous shapes in the darkness that cowered under the emerald glow. Two figures did draw her attention, however. She smiled at the image that was presented: two bodies writhing together in love and grief. It was beyond personal yet she knew that it was meant for her to see, to know, to become. 

And with an understanding that she couldn't describe, she was pulled into the light…

"…Hear me?" Dawn opened her eyes, squinting at the harsh light that blared from the candles that lit the room. It took a minute for her to adjust but she finally did and turned her attention to the figure gently shaking her. 

"Baby, are you all right?" CJ asked. Her eyes focused on his face and she smiled lazily. She touched his smooth chocolate skin with her fingertips, feeling the ignition of another fire within her as the coarse bristles of his facial hair scratched against her palm. 

"I'm more than all right," she said and tried to kiss him but when he pulled away she frowned. "What's wrong?" 

CJ dropped his eyes and when he looked back up for her, for a split second, she felt it. The pain and rage behind his evil, the cruelties he had beset upon the woman she had been not thirty seconds ago in a premonition of…

And just like that, it was gone and she was staring into the eyes of her concerned boyfriend. 

"I don't know," he admitted and pulled her into his lap. "One minute you were crying my name and the next…it was like you were gone." 

"Well," she said, the flame of embarrassment coloring her cheeks, "is that, like, supposed to happen after…you know? I, um, you know?" 

"But it wasn't that," he said. "It was, I don't know." He shrugged. "Forget I said anything. Besides," he nuzzled her neck, "ya never know. Could've been the artful hands just touching you right."

"Whatever," she said and pushed away from him. She stood up and when the jelly legs hit her, she plopped back down. "Whoa, feeling kinda noodlish right now." 

"Yep, it was me," he said and threw his arm around her shoulders. "Just don't my own powers." 

"And I bet you wouldn't know how far you could fly if Spike were here and he smelled…" It was a simple slip, nothing more. How many times had they joked about not going to far? Most of it had been because she wasn't ready yet and the other part? She didn't want her former crush/pseudo-brother finding out. And now the mere thought of him hurt her in ways that even Buffy's death didn't. 

"Dawn, it's okay." CJ stroked her hair and, oh, how she wanted to believe those words. But she had seen too much in her young life to look at things with a blind eye now. 

"No, it's not. It's not okay and it won't be again." She shrugged his arm away and pulled her shirt on. All the merriness and joy she'd felt on their day together had melted as the cold wind of reality had made itself known again. 

"Baby, I know things are getting hard, how much this Spike thing must be hurting you…" 

"Hurting me?" She couldn't compress the anger that welled up inside. Other than her outburst at Spike four days ago, she'd kept everything else in. She had talked to CJ earlier about it but there had been no anger, only sadness. But now, the more she thought about Spike, her rage knew no borders. "You have no idea. Spike was there for us for so long, even after everyone treated him like shit. He was always there. He said he'd never leave us and then he does this. How could he, CJ? He said he loved m…her. And he does this. Wasn't Buffy good enough for him? Or now that he had her did he not want her anymore…"

Her tirade dissolved into tears and she fell into CJ's awaiting arms. She still didn't get how Spike could do this to Buffy; after all she had sacrificed to be with him, withstanding her friends and mentor, never giving in to their reservations. She loved him, she'd told him that and yet he could do this. _Guess this is what I have to look forward to in love, _she thought bitterly as the tears subsided. _Just goes to show that you can't trust anyone. _

She rested in his arms for several minutes, comforted by the warmth of his flesh against her and his hand gently stroking her hair. In fact, as she lay against him, the warm blanket of slumber slowly made its way over her shoulders, enshrining her in its promise of peace. Before she could give in completely, however, CJ's voice sounded in her ear. 

"Do you think that your anger at Spike is more about you and less about Buffy?" 

Startled, she pulled away from him, her forehead split in confusion. "What do you mean?" 

He shifted on the bed so she could see his entire face. "It's just that a lot of what you told me about you and Spike's relationship, it…" 

"It what?" 

"It's sorta like hero worship."

"And that's a bad thing?" She asked, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. 

CJ raised his hands in surrender. "Not trying to accuse you of anything, Dawnie." 

"It sounds like you are," she bit back, "and don't call me Dawnie." 

"What I mean," he said, ignoring her mini tantrum, "is that when we look up to someone, regardless of how close we are to them, we often fail to see the dirt under their shoes." 

"What the hell does that mean?" 

"Spike's human, Dawn--well, more or less. And humans make mistakes." 

She shook her head. "Not like that. You don't hurt someone you love like that. Not if you love them." 

"But don't you get it?" He grabbed her by the shoulders and she fought the urge to pull away. "You know how much easier it is to hurt someone that loves us? The more you have invested in something, in someone, the easier it is to get scuffed up on the small twigs."

CJ got off the bed and knelt in front of her and for one quick (and psychotically terrifying) second, she thought he was going to propose. "Love is a wonderful thing, Dawn. It can make you fly places your feet never would've reached. You feel invincible when that person you love allows you to hold her in your arms. 

"But it's not easy. There's always the chance of rejection." He lowered his eyes and Dawn couldn't help the rapid pacing of her heart. It almost sounded as if he was talking about her. "That the other person doesn't love you as much as you love them. Or that they may find someone else to love more than they love you. So many pitfalls to love, but its worth it. Even the pain." 

Dawn didn't know she was crying until CJ's thumbs brushed her tears away. He pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead. "But it hurts, CJ. It hurts so much." 

"I know it does, baby. But don't you think he's hurting just as much as you are? As much as Buffy. Think of what he's lost: Buffy, Jay, and acceptance from the others. Your love…" 

"But he hasn't," Dawn said and pulled away. "I…I still love him. I love him so much. He's always been there for me, always made me feel special." CJ's eyes darkened for a moment and Dawn smacked him in the shoulder. "Not like that, silly." 

"Huh? Oh, I know," he replied and averted his gaze. 

"Whatever." 

"Does he know that?" 

"Know what?" 

"That you still love him? That Buffy and Jay still do…" 

"He's got to," Dawn said, a bit unsure of her response. "He knows we…" 

"That you what? That you kicked him out? That you didn't even give him a chance to explain? That, in the four days since he delivered himself into your hands to be judged, no one has gone to see him?" 

Dawn wanted to deny the accusations but she couldn't. They had done nothing to find out what had happened, if it had been an error in judgment or something more. Although the former was most likely the case, Dawn couldn't deny the possibility that there were more sinister forces at work here. This was the hell mouth after all. 

"I…I didn't even think about it. He must feel so alone." Guilt thrashed at her and she turned a watery gaze to CJ. "I have to go see him. I'm sorry, I have to go." Dawn stood and started out the door when and hand touched her shoulder. 

"I can't, CJ. I need to do this alone." 

"I know," he said and turned her around. She nearly melted when his lips brushed across hers in the softest kiss. "Just here to provide an escort for my girl." 

Dawn couldn't hide the smile that bubbled within her and she wrapped her arms around CJ's neck and plundered his unsuspecting lips. She pulled away reluctantly and entwined her fingers in his. 

"Well, boyfriend of mine, let's hop to it." He offered her a melodramatic bow and led the way out the house and onto the bike. 

As they rode over to the cemetery, Dawn realized the anger that had clouded her mind about Spike's actions were gone. In its place was the unwavering love she would carry for the vampire for the rest of her days. She just hoped that Spike would allow her to be there for him because, even if she had forgiven him, he still had a ways to go with Buffy. And Mt. Slayer was a tall order to climb. But with her help, she'd navigate her big brother through the more perilous obstacles and get the two lovers back on their feet and back together. 

After all, it didn't bode well for her duties as the One if she couldn't do a little matchmaking. 

~~~

She watched the little girl dismount from the bike and sneered at the power that radiated from her. This was Gabriel's precious Emerald, all right. Except there was something else about her that Emerald never possessed…

"No matter," Morrigann said from her perch in the tree as the young girl disappeared into Spike's crypt. She had sat in the tree for the last hour, waiting for the other vampire to leave and not ten minutes after he does this little bitch shows up. She shrugged, deciding to put Spike's seduction off until a later date. After all, his little slayer slut wasn't here to catch the festivities. 

"Of course," she said as she watched the brown-skinned man on the motorcycle ride off, "this night doesn't have to be a total loss." Closing her eyes, she focused on the nerves in her back and the tattoos burst forth, the wings spreading out from her crouched form. Without another thought, she leapt from the tree and flapped her wings. She climbed into the sky, leveling out a few hundred feet from the ground, her eyes never leaving her target. 

When he pulled up into a driveway, killing the engine, Morrigann licked her lips. She fell to the ground, landing effortlessly and folded her wings back into place. She ran a hand through her hair, initiating the change from multi-colored to black. Adjusting her breasts, she walked up towards the unsuspecting young man as he did something to his bike. When he saw her, his chocolate eyes nearly burst from his sockets. He stared at her until she reached him and, resting her hands on the seat of the bike, she leaned over and slid her tongue over her crimson painted lips. 

"Hey," she said and purposefully raked her eyes over his tank top covered torso. 

"Hey," he whispered and her sex tightened when his Adam's Apple bobbed in sync with the rising bulge in his pants. 

"I'm Morrie," she said and offered her hand. Energy crackled around them when their hands met and Morrigann thought she saw familiarity behind his gaze but she shook it off. 

"CJ," he said and seemed to gain a modicum of control back. "What are you doing out here?" 

She shrugged and gave him an innocent smile. "My car, it broke down about a mile back and, well, I saw you drive past and followed you, hoping that you could help me out." 

He frowned and she spotted the suspicion in his eyes. "You need to be careful, Morrie. Lot of dangerous things out at night in this town." 

_If you only knew. _"I'm just passing through. Trying to get to LA." She lowered her eyes. "I need to see my attorney. My mother just passed last week and, well, I need to put her affairs in order." 

Any mistrustfulness he had disappeared and he gave her a sympathetic smile before he mounted his bike. "Hop on," he said and Morrigann climbed on, wrapping her arms around his waist. 

As she rode away with him, barking out false directions, Morrigann couldn't help but smile at the fallacy that was man. 

Sometimes they just made it too easy. 

TBC in…_The Eyes of My Salvation…_


	32. Eyes of My Salvation

Severed Ties 

****

Chapter 31

__

The Eyes of My Salvation

****

A/N: _Major apologies for the delay but a bout of real life busyness, college football, laziness and just being plain stuck contributed to the tardiness of this chapter. I'm gonna shoot for a chapter a week from now on and will try my best to keep that. It should be easier since this chapter helped me focus on the major characters romantic attachments. The next chapter will be another feeling out of those not in here. Also, doubt if there will be another chappie quite this long. Well, enjoy. Feel free to rant after you're done. _

He stared at the half-empty glass and frowned. The blood sloshed against the sides when he shook it and he purveyed the liquid with the scrutiny of a jeweler studying a fine diamond. Something was missing. 

Searching the crypt with amber eyes, he smirked when his eyes fell on the missing ingredient. He set the glass down on the sarcophagus and retrieved the unopened bottle of Yaeger from its nest in the corner of the crypt. He'd hidden it there months ago, as a backup should he ever run out of alcohol and somehow it had been forgotten. 

"Lucky find," he muttered and cracked open the harsh liquor. The scent burned his nostrils but the sting was welcome. Anything that forced the cold numbness that encased his being was encouraged; a night of violence at Willie's had only done so much. After he had torn the Fyarl demon's head off--a feat that even surprised him--there were no other takers for the soddin 'Slayer's lapdog'. Not even a quick patrol down by the docks had been enough to re-light the fire that generally coursed through his belly regardless of mood. But this separation from Buffy was beyond his abilities to cope and he'd wondered if he'd ever shed this miasma that covered him. 

"You look like shit," a cool voice announced from the door. Spike chuckled humorlessly. He poured the alcohol into the glass of blood and, when the two liquids consolidated to one and nearly overflowed, he took a sip. 

"Does it help?" Dawn asked and her heels clicked against the floor as she ventured deeper into the belly of the beast. 

Spike eyed the strangely colored concoction and shrugged. "Doesn't hurt," he said and took a generous sip. As he walked towards the recliner, Spike risked a glance at his once Niblet--really couldn't call her that anymore, not with her hating his guts now, just like everyone else. He'd expected her eyes to hold the loathing and disgust they had a few nights ago but he was surprised when he saw an array of emotions filtering through her wide eyes. The anger was expected but the addition of confusion, fear and hope were not. There was a slip of something that tinged her retinas that he thought was guilt…no, it couldn't have been. He ignored the bloom of hope that sprang to life in his chest, and sat down in the chair with his back to her. 

"So, Bit," he said, calling on the arrogant bravado that had sustained him for a century, "what brings you to my humble abode?" 

"I was with…I mean…" Her nervousness bled through her skin and he knew exactly where she'd been but remained quiet. "I just came over to…everyone's pretty mad at you." 

Spike couldn't hide the flinch and took a long draught from the glass to steady his nerves. He inhaled let out a steadying breath before replying. "Yeah, kinda figured that out already." 

She imitated his gesture and when she spoke, even his vampiric hearing barely picked it up. "You're not gonna be coming around anymore, are you?" The accusation and sadness in her tone was like a cross held against his chest and not for the first time Spike was thankful he didn't have to breathe. 

"It's…its complicated Bit." 

Dawn laughed. The frustration was evident in her tone and he bit back what would have been an ill-timed chuckle. "Everyone always says that…" 

"Guess it must be true, then." 

"No, it's not," she said vehemently. "It's just that people _make _things complicated." 

"So what's my excuse?" he asked, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into his tone. "Considerin' the fact that I ain't a person." Her sighed echoed through the crypt and Spike tempered the desire to turn around. He couldn't look at her. Not now. He was barely holding it together as it were; to look at her now would replace the numb shell with the jagged points of his broken heart. 

It was quiet for several minutes and Spike took the time to finish his drink. Ever since the episode in the alley he had had trouble holding his blood down. Bloody nerves, he thought. Rarely had he felt bad about anything and during the last few weeks he was thankful he wasn't cursed with a soul. If guilt was this bad without one, what the hell would it be like with one? 

"Do you love her?" 

Spike jumped at her voice and he slunk further into the chair. When he didn't answer, Dawn repeated the question. 

"It was just…" He hesitated. It was just what? Getting back at her? Thinkin' with his bloody prick? "It was a bad day. I didn't go out to…" 

"No, not _her,"_ she spat, then added softly, "Buffy." 

How could she ask him something like that? Of course he loved Buffy, loved her more than soddin anything else. He would never…_But you did, _a voice sounded in his head. _You wounded her more than Angelus ever did, more than her Da, more than Giles. _He knew it was the demon, the vindictive occupant where his soul once resided, angry and upset at how she had treated him; not just in front of the wanker of a father but for the past two years. He'd forgiven her but the bastard of a demon hadn't forgotten. 

"Then how could you do this to her?" 

Spike shook his head and laid the glass down beside the chair. He leaned back and slung an arm over his eyes. "Question of the day, innit, Bit." 

__

Dawn walked all the way into the room and stopped in front of him. Spike felt her gaze sear into him but he remained quiet. He was shocked when her warm hand pulled his arm away from his face and when he looked into her eyes and saw the tears welling in them, he couldn't hold the pain back any longer. 

He didn't know how he got to the floor or how long he'd been crying. But what was more puzzling was the warm body that held him between its legs. It took him a moment to realize Dawn whispering comforting words in his ears as she stroked his back. Spike leaned into her embrace, thankful to at last have someone hold him. It had been too long since he'd been held and his spirit had atrophied in the short time without companionship. But now as Dawn tended to him and warmth that went further than physical bled from her, Spike felt his inner strength slowly return.

He pulled away from her and stared into eyes that weren't accusatory, not like they had been during his last visit to Revello. Although there was still lingering anger and disappointment in her black orbs, he also saw the love she still held for him. 

"Feeling better?" she asked when he stood and wiped his eyes. He nodded and stamped down the urge to turn away. 

"Yeah, thanks." He flopped back in the chair and stared down at the girl--no, young woman--that sat cross-legged in front of him with tear-stained cheeks. Her demeanor was nothing like the impulsive girl of last summer and instead held a patience that belied her age. When he looked at her, Spike felt naked but there was no vulnerability in it--an unexplainable peace possessed him and he knew that, with her, things would be all right. 

As if reading his thoughts, Dawn said, "So, you wanna tell me what happened?" 

And Spike told her. 

~~~

It was the first time Faith had been to Sunnydale Towers and--at the singular glance at the outside of the condos--she was impressed. Even from a distance the grounds were immaculate. The grass and bushes were trimmed perfectly and the trees in the background looked as if they'd been painted onto the canvas. The wall-sized windows reminded her of some of the higher-class housing she used to envy growing up in Boston. She'd told herself that once she made Captain--oh, yeah, she wanted to be a police officer--she would have a penthouse with windows like that so she could overlook the city she was sworn to protect. Unfortunately things didn't work out that way. 

She walked up to the gate and glanced down at the piece of paper left for her at Buffy's. When they'd reached B's house, their first destination had been the kitchen. Giles had been dozing on the couch, waiting to tell them of his new lodgings. He also informed the slayers that no one was around; Jay was MIA (as usual), Willow and Tara had gone to a movie, and Angel and Cordelia were at the hotel. B's Dad had left a message to call him and Faith saw the glint of hope that shone in her sister slayer's eyes. As bad as Hank had been to B and Dawn, the blonde still had hope of her dad being there for her and bratty sister. So they had talked a bit about deadbeat parents, since Faith never knew her papa dearest but her mother was quite the dead beat. The brunette felt the pull of Buffy as she told Faith her fears; it had been wonderful yet scary. She wasn't sure where this thing between her and B was going. Sure, they were getting along now but what would happen after they dealt with this threat? Would B just ship her off, say thanks for the help, don't need you anymore? It was a possibility and, considering what she had done to B in the past Faith wouldn't really blame her if she did. When the time did come and the danger passed, she would deal, but for now she and B were five-by-five. 

After they had talked, B went upstairs to call Papa Summers and Faith decided to crash Watcher's nap. That was when he gave her an envelope from Xander. She'd opened it and found the directions to this place, a 5-digit number and a key along with another 3-digit number. She'd asked Giles what it was for but he only shrugged, relaying Xander's message that he had a surprise for her. 

So here she was, in front of one kick ass living complex. Running a hand through her hair, Faith stared at the closed gate for a minute before her eyes found the keypad on the wall. 

"So this is what the numbers are for," she muttered. "But which one?" It didn't take long for her to decide on the longer code and she tapped it in. The audible click that followed the last entry signaled the correct entry. She pushed open the gate and stepped through, allowing it to drift close of its own accord. She walked down the main path and looked at the signs before glancing back at the paper. 

"Room 112," she said and laughed. "Somebody's been listening to Bad Boy." The thought of the group's music and imagining that tasting 'Peaches and Cream' was just the thing Xander had in store for her made the muscles below her waist tighten. It had been three days since they'd fu…made love and that itch that needed to be scratched was starting to thump-thump to the point where she had been close to attacking him. But Faith had surprised herself with her own self control and she and Xander had spent the last few nights cuddling in silence. 

"But I sure as hell ain't cuddlin' tonight," she said as she stood in front of the given room number. She raised her hand to knock but the door opened just before her knuckles rapped on the wood. She peered into the darkness but…it wasn't really dark. She hesitated and when she couldn't pick up any hints of danger, stepped over the threshold. She gasped when strong hands gripped her waist and pulled her against an impressive erection. 

"Looks like somebody's glad to see me," she murmured and ground her ass against Xander's crotch. He moaned and his hands slid underneath her shirt, igniting a trail of desire that would only be quenched when he pushed his cock inside of her. 

"And considering the, well, considerable wigglin that lovely ass of yours is doin, I'd have to say the same thing about you."

"You got that right, lovah boy," Faith said and whirled around, pushing Xander against the door. Her lips claimed his in a violent kiss, but it melted into something too tender for Faith to describe but she didn't care. As much as the rough stuff turned her on, she couldn't help but love the soft, easy lovemaking that Xander introduced her to (Corn-fed so did not count) and she wanted to die every time he entered her. But when their orgasms approached and he called her name, nothing had ever made Faith want to live like that. She wanted to feel that now, needed to feel it but refused to part her lips from his. She didn't need to, however, as Xander picked up on the hint. His hands cupped her ass and she hopped up, wrapping her legs around his waist. She didn't know where he was going to but she didn't care; she'd let him lead and as long as she ended up by his side. 

Of course, the 'by his side' bit was gonna be preceded by some mind blowing sex and lovemaking, but who was counting? 

Faith's hand slid up and down Xander's chest and the young man pulled his lover closer to him. He wasn't sure how long they laid there but it was all good to him. The last few days hadn't been easy, they hadn't had time to delve deeper into their budding romance but it'd been necessary with the footwork he'd had to do. That was over, however, and now he could hold the woman he…his woman in his arms.

"So, X-man," Faith said and slung her leg over his waist, "wanna tell me what all this is about." 

"I would," he gasped, "but that thing you're doin' down there, kinda making it hard to focus." 

Faith glanced down at Xander's erection and he moaned when her hand clasped over the erect shaft. "Oh, I'd say something's hard, all right. "

"You just have that effect on me." 

"I know I do." Faith kissed Xander's chest and one hand stroked his bearded face. "So you say you can't think with me doing this?" 

"That about sums it up." 

"So, this has to be taken care of before you can talk…" 

"I didn't say thaaat…" But cohesion of thought dissipated as Faith took him into her hot mouth. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two were splayed in the same position as before. And despite the distant stirrings of arousal (he didn't know if it was Faith's appeal or the little extra DNA inside him that cut his refractory period in half--but he wasn't complainin' about that) Xander was focused enough to get past his need for his slayer. 

"Anya." 

Faith stiffened and Xander cursed himself for such blatant stupidity. He stroked her back for several moments until she relaxed and kissed her on the forehead before looking into her dark eyes. 

"Sorry, baby, that's not what I meant." He anticipated a defensive response but was surprised when she smacked him lightly and snuggled further into his embrace. 

"It better not be what you meant, punk." Xander chuckled and Faith dug her fingers into his ribcage. "Enough all ready. I'm dyin' over here; tell me what's up with the pad." 

All joviality drained from his body and Xander pushed the lingering pain over losing his former fiancée as far down as he could. "When…when Anya died, I split town after her funeral. I didn't wait for anything, didn't tell anyone about it. Don't know how, but I found myself in Mexico." 

"And that's how you got all super-X." 

"Yeah." 

"Baby," Faith said and sat up. "I know you told me all about the elf guy that took you on your new path, but when are you gonna tell the others?" 

"Later," he said. The fact that no one had yet cornered Xander about his newfound power, he knew he'd have to tell them all soon. And he would, when the time came but now--now he had to get this out. 

"The thing was," he started, "when I left, I didn't get a chance to go over Anya's will. It wasn't until a few weeks ago, when I ran into our lawyer that I remembered. He told me to come by his office the next day and that's when I found out." 

"Found out what?" 

"That Anya's investments had more than tripled in value while I was away." 

"Whoa." 

"Tell me about it. She'd already had quite an impressive net worth when we were together. Of course, being Anya, she never really told me just how much she had in the first place." 

"Got love those fantastic significant other surprises." 

"I'll say," he said and caressed her lips with his. "So, what I found out was that Anya still held share in the Magic Box, but that part Giles knew about. In event of her death, she transferred her shares over to him."

"So why haven't we been meeting at Casa Summers instead of there? Wasn't that like you guys' old meeting spot?" 

Xander shrugged. "Guess Anya also put in a request for certain modifications that Giles only got around to approving last month. It should be ready in the next couple of weeks."

"Good," she said, and rolled over, stretching out over Xander's body. "Cause I was a bit tired of the Kumbaya gathering in that living room." 

"It was kind of cramped, wasn't it?" 

"Cramped? Hell, that was worse than the pit of an apartment I lived in back in Boston." 

"Well, baby, you won't have to worry about that anymore." 

"What do you mean?" 

Xander's eyes roamed around the room. "Well, didn't you check out the digs?" 

"Uh, that's where this whole Q&A started. And you still haven't gotten to the point yet." 

"My bad if I'm longwinded. Giles must be rubbing off on me." 

Faith ground her hips into Xander's groin and he moaned. His hands reflexively grasped her hips and she ground against his pulsing manhood. "This is rubbing off, baby." 

"I can see that, but if you want me to ever get to a point, you may wanna slow down." 

Although she grunted her disappointment, Faith complied. Xander took a few minutes for the blood to return to his brain and when it did, he stared at the woman in front of him. 

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" 

Faith blushed but tried to hide it behind a casual smirk. "Perk of bein' a slayer. Anyway, you're stallin'. Get with it, boyo." 

"Yeah, well. Besides the Magic Box, Anya took it upon herself to rent out this condo."

"But didn't you guys have a place already?" 

"Well, yeah, but she knew me better than anyone. She knew I'd give up our place if something happened to her. I couldn't live there without her, it'd be too painful." 

"So this is your place, now?" Faith asked softly. 

"Not quite." 

"What do you mean?" 

_Here goes, Xander. _He took a deep, much needed breath and cupped his slayer's face between his hands. "I don't want it to be just mine." Faith's eyes widened and she tried to pull away. Xander refused to let her go. "Don't run, sweetie," he whispered. "Please, don't run." 

"I'm not…" she trailed off, dropping her eyes and fixed her gaze on his chest. "I just…don't you think it's too fast?" 

"What? You think I'm asking you to move in with me?" 

Xander squirmed when Faith's eyes, full of hurt, met his and he kissed her soundly. "Sorry, baby, didn't mean to tease you." 

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" 

"You're right, I do want you to stay with me. I said that because…" 

"Because what?" she said and twisted out his hands. "You wanted me to make a fool of myself? Well, good job, X, you did that." Xander sighed in frustration as Faith stalked around the room, throwing her clothes on. When she finished dressing and put on her boots, Xander finally jumped off the bed. 

"Faith, I'm sorry." She pushed him away but he knew she didn't put her full power into it. Slightly encouraged, he grabbed her by the waist. "Don't go, please." 

"Don't want to be around the incredibly Amazing Asshole." 

Xander laughed. "And I wonder why I'm falling in…" Two sets of dark eyes met and Xander's heart plunged at the fear and hope that twinkled in Faith's eyes. 

"What were you going to say?" she asked and her throat bobbed nervously. 

Xander closed his eyes and said a prayer before catching Faith's gaze. "I was gonna say I wonder why I'm falling in love with you." 

She shivered at the words and her hands snaked around his waist. He saw the words on her lips but he waited for her to fight through the anxiety. "You…you're falling in love with me?" 

"Yeah, I am." 

"But what about Anya? She's only been dead a few months." 

Xander tensed but forced the tightness in his body away. "To you guys she's been gone a few months. But to me…to me she's been gone three years." 

"Oh," Faith whispered. "Forgot about the wacky time warp thing."

"The point is, Faith, I've always been drawn to you and…" 

"But how can you forgive me for trying to kill you?" 

Xander's hand stroked the wild mane that was her hand and drew her closer to him. "Didn't we go over this already?" 

"Xander, I'm serious." 

"Look, Faith, I'm gonna say this one more time and I don't want to repeat it again: I forgave you a long time ago. Doesn't matter if you think you don't deserve it, in truth, none of us really do. But we get it all the time from the people who care about us. Why? Cause they think enough of us to have--well--to have faith that our mistakes, big or small, will ultimately make us better people…better friends…better partners…" 

No more words were spoken as Faith plundered Xander's unsuspecting lips. It took him a moment to respond, but when he did, he put all the feelings about Faith that churned within into the gesture and they again lost themselves to the ebb and flow of easy lovemaking. 

Afterwards, when Faith slept, Xander's mind continued to pour over his words to her. He truly believed that some things people did were beyond forgiveness but they were absolved notwithstanding. The thing was, though; that those closest to him received his absolution while those not as close garnered no such consideration. It was grossly unfair but only natural. 

"Doesn't mean I can't change that," he whispered. Faith stirred and Xander brushed his lips across her cheek before settling in next to her. As he started to drift, he realized that since his voluntary exile, his disgust with a certain pair of vampires had dissipated. Oh, he still didn't like them but it wasn't because of their nature. Still, their nature was what had blinded him to the need to give them forgiveness. Xander didn't know if it was the demonic essence inside him or having time to think about it all, but one thing that gave voice in his head was that forgiveness was not something reserved for those you cared about and loved: it was for everyone. 

And when someone didn't ask for it, well, that was the time they needed it most. 

~~~

Opening the door with care, Angel slipped into the hotel room. The television was the only thing on and its light accentuated the sleeping form in the bed. His eyes traced her curves, so pronounced that even the comforter couldn't mute her goddess physique. The familiar stirrings in his belly as his eyes lingered on her hips brought him back to reality. He tore his gaze from Cordelia and walked into the room, silently fastening the lock on the door. He turned his back to the bed and he removed his coat and boots, placing them on the chair under the window. He grabbed the curtain, intending to close it when the bright shine of a streetlight caught his attention. It was nothing special, really, but at the brief glance it had reminded him of the platinum head of one screwed up and sinfully annoying vampire. 

"Get a grip," he admonished quietly. When he'd left Spike's crypt, Angel had been intent on driving straight here. Something about the younger vampire had made him want to see Cordelia; to feel her hot skin against his chest as they made out, then slept. The thought of her lips on his stirred something he thought dead three years ago when he left Buffy. He needed to know that she was there for him even if his mind already knew that she was. But as he approached the hotel, he wavered. Spike's words had stung Angel, undoubtedly what the blonde had intended--that barbed tongue was as lethal as its owner, striking out blindly but with a quickness that was hard to avoid. He couldn't blame Spike, especially when the younger vampire had learned it from him. So he had passed the hotel and drove around for a few hours, allowing the cool night air beat against his face as he sped through the outskirts of town at triple digit speeds. It was something he seldom had time to do in LA but it was a balm of sorts; out on the open road, no companion save for the whirl of thoughts that poked and prodded at the thin walls that held his confidence together. The demon--Angelus--had rallied at Angel's doubt, thanking the hell gods for the chink in his capture's armor. 

His thoughts were interrupted when two arms snaked around his waist. He sighed when Cordelia laid her cheek against her back. Her warmth, even through the cotton shirt, was enough to salve some of the tension from his muscles. He covered her hands in his and leaned against her. It was a submissive gesture, something he'd never been too good at, with or without the soul. He wasn't sure how many times he could give himself up like this, but tonight was the night where he needed someone else to be the strong one. 

"You were kinda spaced out over here," Cordelia said. "I called your name, you know." 

Angel shook his head. "Sorry. Didn't hear you." 

Cordelia's hands caressed his shoulders and she turned him around. Her eyes, so dark, stared through him and Angel lowered his head, afraid to uncover himself to her so naked. If she saw what was behind the soulful façade, she would run screaming in the other direction. 

"Hey," she said and Angel shivered as the warmth of her breath against his flesh. She gripped his chin and forced him to look at her. "I'm right here. Talk to me." 

Angel clasped his hand in hers and ushered her to the bed. The short walk felt like an eternity as his mind drifted over the fears that sharpened themselves across his soul every second. 

They sat on the bed and Angel stared straight ahead, resisting the temptation to glance at Cordelia, whose eyes bore into him. She squeezed his hand and Angel returned the gesture, thankful for the strength such a simple act had given him. Without preamble, he told her everything; not just his conversation with Spike but his fears and insecurities that had started nearly three hundred years ago with the strained relationship of his father. As the words spilled from his mouth, the room fell away and his mind replayed the events of his life. There was so much he wished to do over, so many times he'd disappointed people; his family, Darla. Drusilla and Spike. Buffy. It seemed that his entire existence was built around the false shield he projected as strength when, in truth it was the brittle foundation of his confidence. It was difficult to maintain but easy to erect the façade; no one ever knew how weak he was. Oh, he tried to convey his knowledge in the matter to Buffy years ago but she was too stubborn to listen, forever believing in the stalwart persona of her knight. How she'd been deceived and, ultimately broken, by the farce of a man she had fallen for. So young, so precious, she had captivated him at first sight and it was because of her that he'd started on his road to redemption. 

"No, Angel," Cordelia said softly. He craned his neck to look at her and was startled when he saw the tears that trickled down her face. "You didn't start it because of Buffy." 

"Yes I did," he whispered. "If it wasn't for her, if it wasn't for Whistler showing her to me, I'd still probably be in the streets, feeding off dead rats." 

Cordelia's harsh laughter protracted a frown from the vampire and Angel eyed her gruffly. "Glad I could amuse you." 

She sobered but there was no apology in her glare, only disbelief. And sadness. 

"You don't get it, do you?" 

"Obviously I don't," he replied and started to get up but Cordelia's hand wrapped around his wrist. His first reaction was to pull away and he was surprised when her grip remained steady. 

"Sit down." Angel almost laughed at the order but something in her eyes halted any defiance on his part and the vampire took his place by her side. 

"Listen to me, Angel," she said and grabbed his hand in both of hers. "I don't know where you got these crazy ideas from about not being good enough…" 

"I didn't say that." 

"Didn't you? Before you were a vampire, you were constantly seeking your father's approval. Afterwards, Darla's. You left Buffy, not because you wanted for her to have a normal life, but because you thought you weren't good enough for her." 

He opened his mouth to protest but the validity of her argument snaked its way through any of his rebuttals. He'd told Buffy he wanted her to have the things a normal girl had but he wasn't stupid. Not only would her life be short because of her Calling but also being Chosen would prevent her from enjoying the normalcy of a teenage girl. 

Angel's free hand covered his eyes as the familiar sting of tears crept from the background. He stifled the urge to let them go and inhaled sharply. 

"Angel, look at me," Cordelia said and squeezed the fingers of his left hand. Reluctant eyes fell upon her and he bit back the cry that threatened to erupt under the nakedness of her gaze. "You are a wonderful man. You hide behind this wall of stoicism to close off what you feel but I know better. I can see you, the real you."

"If you really do," he said, "it's a safe bet you don't like what you see." 

"I don't," she admitted, "I love it. I love what I see," she reiterated when his eyes widened. "You know why? I see a man who, despite the good he does, can only think about doing more. And before you say anything about the Shanshu, I know even without it, you would still fight the good fight. Yeah, you may have started this fight for Buffy, for the girl that you fell in love with, but that will only takes you so far. Even when you thought you were doing it for her, at some point you started doing it--not for yourself--but because you knew it was the right thing to do. You knew that you could make a difference."

"Cordy…" he trailed off, his voice rough with emotion and his lips occupied by the gentle kiss of the woman beside him. 

"You've made mistakes, Angel, just like all of us. I know you've done things that you're ashamed of, things that I can't imagine but you know what? I don't care." 

"But Angelus…" 

"You're not the only one with a monster inside of you; yeah, yours may be more experienced with the carnage and death, but we all have that darkness, Angel, we just don't like to admit it to ourselves." 

"But the soul is the only thing that keeps him at bay," he protested weakly. "Without the curse…" 

"I don't care about the curse. Yeah, your soul makes you Angel but that doesn't mean that there isn't some part of you, some _good _part of you in Angelus." 

"Trust me when I say there's not. You have no idea how bad he is, what he would do to you if he ever…" But he couldn't finish. Oh, Angel knew exactly what his soulless alter ego would do to Cordelia were he ever to break free. He would laugh at every scream, every tear filled plea; it would only drive him to further cruelties and…

"Don't think about that, honey." 

"How can I not? You don't know how many women I…violated before I got the soul. You can't imagine their screams and--I think about being with you, Cordelia--really being with you, and the only thing that stops me from taking you is imagining what Angelus would do to you. I couldn't risk that…" 

Cordelia smiled and, without warning, threw her leg over his lap and pushed him down to the bed. His reaction was immediate and the denim pants rubbed uncomfortably against his now throbbing erection. He moaned when she started to move above him and her lips planted delicate kisses up and down his jaw line. He fought back the moans that sprung from the furthest depths of his need and sketched her curves with his hands. 

"What are you doing?" He asked, searching for the breath he did not need. 

"I want to show you that we can do things to make us feel good." Her voice trembled and the scent of her arousal clung to his nostrils. Although he tried to understand her initiation of this, the sensations and his own need far outweighed her logic. 

"I…I love you, Angel, I really do," she confessed, never slowing her ministrations. "That means that I will do everything I can to help us truly be together. And until we find that cure, I'm gonna be right here, right by your side. I know you're not a monster but a man and I will give you everything it is that you need." Her body tensed and Angel knew what was next and he swallowed her scream before it penetrated the air. Her orgasm rode the planes of her body and Cordelia trembled and minute gasps eschewed past their dueling tongues. He rolled them completely on the bed and to their sides, cradling her shaking body in his arms. 

"Sleep," he whispered when her tired eyes looked up at him, begging to say something. "We can talk tomorrow." She nodded before closing her eyes and she was asleep within five minutes. 

Although he was far from satisfied, Angel felt just fine. He held in his arms the woman he loved and, though they had yet to finish all of what needed to be said, there was time for that later. In fact, he knew that as strong as she was, Cordelia was terrified at the open admissions from the night. They had come closer the past several weeks but had not shared such an intimate conversation, not even the first night they'd nearly made love in this very room. They were in uncharted territory and both were uncertain how to navigate the dangers of becoming too caught up in the moment. The consequences were not lost on them and Angel knew with an unquestioning certitude that were he ever to harm this beautiful creature next to him, if his soul was ever returned, he would walk into the sun. 

_No you wouldn't, _a voice inside him whispered. _As much as you love her, you wouldn't do that. _He didn't try to argue with the voice because it was right. As much as it would hurt, as much as he would want to die, he would stay alive. Not for the punishment of guilt that would be nearly unbearable, but for the fact that, as Cordelia had said, he did what he did because it was the right thing to do. 

Angel stared at the content look on Cordelia's face and laid a gentle kiss on her brow. Her words had opened something in him--a door he thought forever locked. He'd never thought himself a good man but she had shown him that, despite the demon raging inside of him, he--Angel--_was _a good man. For the first time he truly felt like a hero, all because of a woman who had been by his side for the last two years. A woman he'd only seen for the first time a few months ago. 

He only hoped he could show her the rest of what he had to offer because she truly deserved it. But even if they never found a remedy to the curse, he wouldn't run this time. He'd done it once with Buffy and though his heart still ached for putting her through such pain, he couldn't help but be glad. After all, she had found Spike and, though things were rough now, he knew they'd find a way to work it out. And Angel…

Cordelia snorted and he adjusted his hold on her. Yeah, things had worked out for the better. Buffy had gotten the one person he knew was her equal in every way and it just so happened that Angel got his own little slice of heaven in Cordelia Chase. 

Before he allowed sleep to claim him, Angel chuckled. In three centuries he'd still not been able to predict what life had to offer. Even when things seemed bad, they still had a way of working out for the best. 

~~~

Dawn said nothing throughout Spike's confession. He spilled his story to her without pause, his watery eyes fixated on the stone floor between them. She had tried to remain calm but when he had gotten to the alley BJ, she had snorted in disgust. Okay, so it was not the best thing to do--she wanted to smack herself when Spike recoiled in shame but she couldn't take it back. She urged him to continue and he did. She frowned when he told her about waking up in the crypt and Dawn studied her best friend--was he still? --searching for something--anything--which could alleviate even a portion of his culpability. 

So when he said, "There ya go. The whole soddin story in all its lurid detail," Dawn was stunned. "Wassa matter, Bit? Vampire got ya jugular?" 

Dawn shook herself, clearing the miasma that drifted between her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I just thought…" 

"Just thought what?" Spike asked not too gently. "Thought someone spiked my blood? Or maybe put the whammy on me? Sorry to disappoint, luv, but seems that's the only thing Spike's good for." He stalked towards the half empty bottle of liquor and downed half of it in one swallow. 

"That's not true." 

"Isn't it?" He threw the bottle against the crypt door and Dawn shrieked at the explosive violence from her best friend. It was a part of him she had never really seen before and her heart almost stopped when she stared into the game of William the Bloody. "Take a good look, Bit. This is what I am: a demon. You know what a demon cares about? Itself. No friends or family save for its Sire. Not a human lover, especially not a slayer or her brat of a sister and annoying friends. And a demon will shag when and where it wants, got it?"

She wasn't sure what it was but her fear was ripped apart by the searing claws of her anger. "Who the hell do you think you are?" 

"Just told you," he replied coolly. She was dimly aware of his lost fire but her own burned so bright that she paid no heed to it. 

"What? You're this big bad vampire? Is that what you are? Please, you haven't been that in a long time." 

"Hey--" 

"You've been so much more than that." 

Spike shrugged. "You didn't seem to think so the other night. Slapped me good, you did." 

A portion of Dawn's indignation died with his quiet objection and her cheeks reddened in shame. "I'm sorry about that, Spike, I am so sorry." 

"Ain't we all," he muttered and leaned against the stone sarcophagus. "Ain't we all." 

"Talk to her," Dawn said after several minutes of silence. 

"Why should I? She won't listen to me and I don't blame her." 

Dawn sighed, her frustration at Spike's stubbornness slipping through the cracks of her surprisingly calm veneer. "Will you give this self-pity thing a rest! We screwed up, Spike, all of us; me, Buffy, Giles…Jay." 

At the mention of his daughter, Spike's eyes lit up but he said nothing. "We judged you without hearing the full story and even if it's not what I wanted to hear, so what? You made a mistake. Who doesn't?" 

"Yeah, but I…" 

"Are you sorry?"

He frowned. "What?" 

"Are you sorry you did it?" 

"God, yes, Nibs," he said, exasperated. "When I think o' how I 'urt my Slayer, I just…" He wiped at his eyes. 

Dawn stepped in front of Spike and forced him to look into her eyes. She felt an unfamiliar stirring from within and her skin hummed from the contact with the vampire. From the frozen look on his face, Spike felt it too and for an instant Dawn she understood exactly what he was feeling. 

"If you're sorry, what's the problem? Make amends; don't wait for her to come to you. You know how stubborn and stupid she can be." 

Spike chuckled, the first genuine laugh since she'd been there. "Yeah, the silly bint." 

"Please, Spike," Dawn said, turning the mood somber once more. "Don't let this grow into something you two can't get past. And the longer you guys let it linger, the harder it's gonna be. 

"I know it's not fair, you having to always be the one to bridge the gap but…" 

"But in this case, Bit, I'm the one who cocked it all up. So I should be the one on my knees." 

Dawn said nothing because he was right; Spike had screwed up. Well, at least he hadn't _screwed _the biatch that made the move on him, that would have been infinitely worse and would have complicated things beyond the telling. As it was, she was slightly icked by his honesty (and thinking of putting a guy's--thing--in your mouth, very ewwww) but it wasn't too unforgivable. Not saying that it wasn't majorly gross and boneheaded, but Buffy had to forgive him for it, didn't she? Angel had killed Ms. Calendar and they all forgave him. So what was a little…well, she really didn't know what to call it, just that it wasn't near as bad as killing people! 

"Well," Dawn said, and picked up her bag, "guess I better get goin'." 

"Not so fast, Platelet," Spike said and snatched his duster from the couch. "Not gonna let you go out there and get snacked on."

"Come on," she said. "You know I got the Emerald power--" 

"Sorta like 'girl power', eh?" 

"--and I can take care of myself." 

Spike walked past her and opened the crypt door. "Too bad, Bit. Looks like you're stuck with me." 

The teen rolled her eyes and stormed past the smirking vampire. He closed the door and fell in stride next to her and although she was annoyed with his protectiveness, a bigger part of her was elated. Not just by his watchdog behavior but for the first time in weeks, his cocky gait was back. There was no mistaking the tension in his shoulders but at least some of his confidence was back. He was going to talk to Buffy tonight; she knew that even if he hadn't told her. And while Dawn knew it wasn't gonna be a quick kiss-and-make-up situation, this was the first step towards the two getting back together. 

Her mood lightened and Dawn snaked her arm around his. He stumbled in surprise but soon fell back into stride. Dawn couldn't hide the smile that split her cheeks; her best friend was back and this time she swore that this time, she would make things right with him. The only low point was the bitch that had come on to Spike. Dawn made a silent promise to herself and to Buffy that if she ever found the trollop, that bitch's ass was gonna burn. 

~~~

One of the biggest advantages of having a slayer and vampire as parents, Jay thought, was the ability to remain supernaturally quiet when one wanted to be alone and sit in front of the telly and veg-out at two in the morning. 

_Thank god Rupes is gone, _she thought and splayed out on the couch. The Watcher had decided earlier that day that one more night on the couch was "completely unacceptable" and he'd packed up and headed to Sunnydale Arms. She had thought about doing the same thing but considering that her income was precisely zero that option had been closed down. So what does a slayer/vampire hybrid do when she wants to be alone? Well, for one, the 'tude had been a very positive (or negative, depending on how you looked at it) deterrent from prying eyes and even more prying-er (okay, so that wasn't a word…) questions. It wasn't that Jay didn't have anything to say; she had plenty. The problem was that the multitude of questions, doubts and curses that threatened to rupture her neural pathways and fry her synaptic connections until her body feel into neural shock and they had to throw her in stasis to…

"I have _got _to stop watching this," she said and switched from the Star Trek marathon she'd been watching for the past three hours. On her umpteenth perusal through the channels and coming to the decision that nothing of interest was on, Jay stopped clicking on the Discovery Channel and closed her eyes as the host murmured--in a deep, sensual voice, of course--about the ruins of Belize, or some other unimportant country. 

Her mind wandered to the past week and a half, something she'd been unable to _not _do since her father's confession. An unexpected chill slithered up her spine and she bit her lip to maintain a semblance of dignity. Wouldn't do her good to scream in frustration and have Mummy dearest and the wonderful Wiccas to come running down, now would it.

That wasn't fair, Jay knew that, but she had trouble maintaining her composure when the gang looked at her with any type of sympathy. That's why she patrolled from dusk till dawn on most nights, releasing the tension and pain the safest way possible. Well, that and the tattoos and piercings that now adorned various portions of her tiny frame. The latest ran down the side of her right arm was one word: **trust**. Written in Gothic, it epitomized what it was that was missing from her life. The one person she trusted, that never disappointed her had broken something with his actions or, more to the point, his complete lack of denial. As much as his silent confession had hurt, when he turned from her something inside Jay withered. 

She hadn't seen him since. 

"Good riddance," she muttered and instantly regretted it. As much as Daddy had hurt her and Mum, Jay still loved him more than anything. Every night she had fought the urge to go to him, tell him he was forgiven. _Must be Mum's dominant stubbornness gene, _she mused and got up off the couch. 

"I've gone this long without seeing him," she said and paced the living room, "what's a few more days?" But even as she asked herself that question, Jay knew that she needed to see him. She'd always been Daddy's little girl, always been up under him every time the three of them sat around, having a family night. His arm was always around her and the chill of his skin, which was partially offset by her Mum's warmth, comforted her. How she loved those simpler times. 

How she wanted them back. 

_You can get it back, _a voice said from the frazzled tangle of her thoughts. As soon as she honed in on it, it fell silent, but that was enough for her to know what it was saying. It was up to her to bridge the gap. Her Dad may or may not have done something wrong--she still held out hope that he'd been duped, even if no one knew--he was still her father and she was still his girl. 

Decision made (quicker than she would've thought) Jay crept to the door, slinging her duster on and she glanced at the steps, thankful that no one had come searching for her in the past three hours. Part of her was saddened at her Mum's lack of concern but she knew that wasn't true--Buffy'd been the first one in her face every time she came home, worry etched around those hazel eyes. 

_Can't think about that right now. _With a last look at the steps, Jay opened the door and ran into a familiar body. It fell to the ground on impact and she swore, closing the door before any more sound alerted the others. 

"What the hell?" she said at the figure on the ground. It--he, from the sound of it--moaned and Jay bent down. "Are you okay, dude?" When she saw the puncture wounds on his chocolate skin, Jay knew he was far from all right. But when he glanced up at her, his face a trophy of pain, Jay knew that she herself wasn't all right. 

The fact that it was CJ didn't register. Nor his arm that was twisted at an odd angle or the myriad of cuts and bruises that marred his face. She didn't see any of that. All she saw was the hazy green that flecked across brown eyes, eyes she would never forget. Eyes of a person, a thing that she feared more than anything. Eyes of a thing that she prayed she'd never see again but often thought about. 

All her slayer instincts froze at the eyes of her former tormentor and Jay did the only thing she could. 

She screamed. 

__

TBC in…_Connections_


	33. Connections

Severed Ties 

****

Chapter 32 

__

Connections 

She stared at the woman next to her, the curtain of red hiding her elfish features; the small, pointy nose, thin pouty lips; and the alabaster skin that was dotted with the tiniest freckles. Even with that, the most powerful of Willow Rosenberg's features--those wide, bright green eyes--were hidden from view behind coltish eyelashes. 

"You're so beautiful," Tara whispered and kissed the crown of her lover's head. Those same eyelashes trembled before they fluttered open. 

"Hey, sweetie," she said and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. 

"I'm sorry," Tara said. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't mean to wake you." 

Willow shrugged. "It's okay. Not like I was yet into that third level of REM sleep. I was on like two and a half. Mr. Sandman was throwing his little sprinklies at me? Do I have any sprinkly dust in my eyes, cause, well, that's not too sexy." 

"Wills," Tara said and his her smile behind a kiss on Willow's lips. "You're babbling." 

"I tend to do that, you know…" 

"I know…" 

"When I'm excited or scared or frustrated…or, or mad…or…" 

"Tired?" 

Willow smiled and scooted closer towards her lover. "That too." Tara's arm pulled Willow firmly against her chest and she twirled the short strands of red hair between nimble fingers. 

"Tara?" Willow murmured and Tara knew that she was close to sleep again. 

"Yeah, sweetie?" 

"Do you think Buffy's gonna be okay?" 

The urge to blurt out a positive affirmation died before she could formulate the words. What Buffy and Spike were going through was something that all couples faced--that first horrible, dirty fight. Spike and Buffy had fought during the majority of their tumultuous relationship--either with words or fists, often both--but to fight when both parties had mutually admitted their love for the other was very different. And when one party was primarily to blame, or so it seemed, well, that just made things even worse. 

"I wish I knew, honey," she whispered and nuzzled her face into Willow's hair. "They just need to talk." 

"She really loves him." 

"Yeah, I know." 

"More than Riley," Willow said and yawned, "even more than Angel." 

"Yeah," Tara agreed, "I know." 

"And, and they just found each other; they can't be over." 

Tara smoothed the back of Willow's hair down. "I know, baby, but whatever we feel, it's up to them to make it work." 

"Like us?" Tara felt Willow's arm tighten around her waist. She smiled at her lover's embrace and returned the hug. 

"Yeah, like us." 

"I love you, Tara. You're so strong, like an Amazon." 

The blonde Wicca smiled and kissed Willow on the top of her head. "I love you, too, baby," she said but the even breathing that brushed across the top of her chest told Tara that Willow was already asleep. 

Tara lay there, stroking Willow's hair, and thought about Buffy and Spike. They had been through so much, most of which Tara hadn't been around for but she _had _seen the attraction between the slayer and vampire from the start. The others didn't and the two aforementioned parties sure as heck weren't privy to their own emotions; they hid behind sharp words and fists but there were times--like the entire Glory episode--where they were just Spike and Buffy, not slayer and vampire. Those little moments she saw had tamed the surprise when Buffy confessed her affair with Spike. Even as tears coursed down the slayer's face, Tara knew that Buffy loved him. The problem was that she hated herself too much to see the goodness in Spike and both had spiraled into that melancholic abyss. Jay's arrival had broken both bottled blondes from their moods and Tara could not help but think that the young woman had prevented something bad from happening between the two that would become her parents. 

Deciding that her thoughts would only intensify as the night wore on, Tara cleared her mind and allowed sleep to claim her but before she dropped off into the comfortable peace, a piercing wail sliced through the tranquility of the room and Tara's heart stopped for a single second. 

"What was that?" Willow shouted, and jumped up from the bed. The redhead slipped into a pair of shoes and opened the door. 

"I…I don't know," Tara said and followed her girlfriend out into the hallway. She saw Buffy dart in front of them and down the stairs. Tara mentally recited an incantation and had the words ready to spill from her lips should the need arise. But when she reached the first floor and peered over Willow's shoulders, she lost all focus. 

She was vaguely aware of Buffy holding a bleeding Jay in her arms but her attention was on the young man splayed out on the porch. His eyes were glazed over and blood covered his lips. Tara paid that no attention because her gaze was fixed on the stake that protruded from his chest. 

~~~

"How are you feeling, Pumpkin?" Hank Summers asked and Buffy sighed into the phone. 

"Okay, I guess. The last few weeks have been…" 

"Stressing, I know. Just like I know that I'm a big part of that stress you're feeling." 

Buffy opened her mouth to protest but he was right. She'd had enough to deal with before dear old dad had swept in, ready to carry Dawn off. His arrival had sparked the discord between her and Spike that had erupted into something much more than a disagreement. 

_I do not want to think about that, _she thought and focused her attention back to her father. Although she had been depressed with Spike's unfaithfulness, when her father had rescinded his demand of taking Dawn away, she had been floored. Still, this had been the first time they were able to talk about anything. 

"But not anymore," he said. "From now on, I'm gonna do my best for my two girls." He was obviously expecting her to say something but Buffy refused to allow the hope of reconciling with her father to gain too much ground. After all, how many promises had he made and broken without a second thought or a first phone call? 

Hank sighed on the other end and said, "I know you have no reason to believe me, Buffy, but I promise you that I will try to make everything up to you and Dawnie as best I can." 

"I want to believe you," she admitted, "but how can I ignore your other broken promises?" 

"You can't sweetheart. And I can't ask you to do that, either. All I can do is hope that you give me a chance and I will try my best not to disappointment. I owe you and Dawnie so much…" 

Their conversation continued for the better part of an hour. Buffy told him about her friends, about Spike and her father had listened. Not only that, but he had showed interest, offering advice when she was stuck with something. By the time they were winding down, Buffy had a smile on her face for the first time in what felt like weeks. 

After hanging up at Dad's insistence on her getting some rest, Buffy lay in bed with Mr. Gordo tucked underneath her arm. She stared at the ceiling, her mind dancing around the dominant topic of non-conversation between her and the gang. It had been--what, four days? --since she'd seen him and her body ached from his absence. No, it wasn't just being away from him that hurt but the circumstances around their separation. And the longer it was the more she missed him and the more she missed him, well, the more she thought herself a butt-head. 

But what did she have to feel bad about? He was the one rubbing tongue with some uber whore in the middle of the Bronze. He should've come crawling back to _her, _damn it, not playing the poor little Spike with his hurt feelings. No-sirree-bob. 

_You ran after Riley, _a traitorous voice whispered and Buffy tried to bat it away. It dodged her unwavering desire to silence it and crept into her ear. _And getting sucked by some vamps--on multiple occasions, no less--and you still galloped after that helicopter as if the devil was behind you. _

"Shut up," she spat and threw her face into the pillow, screaming her frustration. Everything was getting to her now. They still hadn't run into the three demons from last week and Xander's familiarity with the Frost guy was moot since his pie hole was clammed up more than he'd been at her birthday parties when he could barely breathe past the cake stuffed down his throat. She hadn't seen much of him this past week, either and when he was around, he and Faith was pretty much joined at the lips, hips, wrists and another other body part that ended in an 's' and probably some parts that weren't. 

"Okay, Buffy, so did not need to go there." She was happy for the two of them (a tingle of delight shimmied up her spine at the developing friendship between her and Faith) but Xander's lack of cooperation in certain things truly irked the blonde slayer. Not only that but he was distant when anyone asked him about his newfound powers. And then there was his relationship with Jay. Of course, with her disappearing acts lately, Buffy didn't really have to worry about the eggshell syndrome between one Mr. Harris and her daughter but to know it was there still…

Buffy sighed and uncovered her face. She fought past the lump in her throat and bit her lip to stave off the tears. She just didn't know what to do with Jay, and while everyone else was also at a loss, she was the mother. _But my daughter's older than me; why would she listen to someone who's pretty much her little sister? _The 'sister' lament was an excuse and Buffy knew it. After Jay had gotten over the mucho disdain with her, she'd looked at Buffy just like the Summers' girls' had looked to Joyce--with respect and a tinge of awe that could never be explained with words. But now, when Jay even bothered to look at her, Buffy was struck with the feeling that Jay blamed her for Spike's infidelity. 

_Over exaggerate much? _Yeah, Spike may have groped and tongue fuc…screwed the biatch, but it wasn't as if she'd caught them going at it like naughty bunnies on a desk or, worse, in his bed. 

She ignored the déjà vu that accompanied that thought and put her mind to the problems (plural) that were weaving and tearing their way through her world. 

"At least me and Dad are getting somewhere." That was the only thing that was going right. Hank Summers, in the span of about forty-eight hours, had become a new man. She had a feeling that a certain friend of hers whose name began with an 'A' and ended with an 'ngel' had something to do with it but she wouldn't complain, at least for now. Angel may have intimidated him but dear old Dad's sincerity rang true enough for her. She wouldn't expect too much but she couldn't just lose hope because if she did, what would be the use of being here? 

"I won't give up, baby," she said and her mind pictured the cerulean eyes and chiseled jaw of the vampire that possessed her heart. She had a right to be pissed at Spike; but exiling him like this? "God, I'm an idiot," Buffy murmured and tossed the covers aside. She had to see him. They needed to talk and since she'd pushed him away when he had come clean, it was up to her to break the ice this time. 

She'd just finished slipping on her tennis shoes when the scream pierced the air. Her hand instinctively pulled the dagger from under her pillow and Buffy was down the steps before she could register the voice. She flung open the door and hesitated when she saw Jay hovering over…was that CJ?

"Oh my god," she whispered and when she saw the glint of steel in Jay's hand, Buffy tackled her daughter from behind. 

"It'shimit'shimit'shim!" Jay shouted, her eyes wide with terror. Buffy held the struggling woman and after a brief resistance, Jay dissolved into a fit of tears. Buffy didn't care that her daughter's fingernails were digging into her flesh or drawing blood. And she didn't pay attention to the body in front of her or Tara and Willow's arrival on the scene. 

All she could think about was the frightened little girl in her arms, crying 'MummyMummyMummy'. Any questions regarding her competence as a mother faded and Buffy allowed her instincts to take over. 

When she whispered her love for the young woman in her arms and was answered by Jay squeezing her tighter, Buffy knew that everything between them was going to be okay. 

Buffy just hoped everyone else would be as lucky as she felt. 

~~~

"Are you insane?" Frost growled and flung the succubus against the wall. Her head smacked against the brick but Morrigann only smiled, the blood from the mortal still coating her lips. 

"Whatever do you mean, Frost?" she asked, her features innocent yet her eyes held a hunger that frightened the warrior. He took a step back and his hand found the hilt of his sword. Morrigann glanced down at the weapon and grinned, her incisors jutting past her supple bottom lip. "I don't know why you're grandstanding, oh White Warrior you, you ain't gonna use it. You know better." 

Frost swallowed a curse and forced himself to relax. Oh, he very well knew that were any harm to come to the succubus slut that Gabriel would have his insides splayed for all to see--he'd told Frost that much before their departure. Still, Gabriel had also made it clear that, although Morrigann was to be taken care of, she was not to step over the boundaries Gabriel had set. 

Taking a bite out of the reincarnated body of Seth definitely fell into that category. 

"You were not to harm him," Frost said, his voice dropping down to its natural calm. 

"Was I the one that snapped his arm over my knee?" She was touching him now; her sex grating against his upper thigh and Frost stifled a moan just as his erection made itself known. Without taking her gaze from his crystalline eyes, Morrigann's hands kneaded the bulge in his pants. "Was I the one that threw him into that tree? Shattered a few ribs with a kick?" Her tongue flicked out and caressed the shell of his right ear. When she spoke again, her heated breath--a copper scent of blood and something desirous that Frost couldn't name--slithered across the exposed flesh of his neck. "No, Frosty, that was you." 

It took all his considerable willpower to push her away and stalk to the other side of the room. He'd once prided himself on resisting the succubus's ardor; something that not even Gabriel had been able to do. Of course he'd never taken his chances in being near her. A warrior of his caliber shunned all things that were potential interference in his quest to become the greatest of his kind. Physical pleasures not associated with combat were included in that. And though his strength of mind was great, he knew of no one that could ignore the call of the succubus when she wanted them. Two weeks living under the same roof with one had shown him that. The things she'd made the two brothers do to the humans they'd captured were unseemly. Torture and rape were two acts he had no tolerance for but had to accept that his three associates were more than partial to such atrocities. 

"You remember what our Master said. Except for the vampire, we were not to sample them in any way save for non lethal combat." 

Morrigann shrugged and started pulling off her clothes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Not like he's gonna punish me." She turned golden eyes towards him and for a brief moment, Frost could think of nothing more than throwing her to the floor and slamming his engorged cock into her until she screamed for mercy. Thankfully she turned from him and he righted himself again. "Of course," she said--now she was completely naked--and laid on the bed, "if he does punish me, I'm sure I'll enjoy it…after awhile." 

Frost turned his eyes from her self-stimulation and the moans that accompanied it. He left the room and his mind scrambled for something to concentrate on, anything besides the painful ache that resounded in his belly. 

_I need to find a worthy opponent, _he thought and snatched his white cloak from its position on the mantle. He remembered sensing a horde of Fyarls on the further reaches of town a few days ago; they would suffice. 

He strode through the mansion, ignoring the twins that alternated between torturing some helpless mortal and laughing at some inane show in television. As he made his way through the night, all was forgotten save for two things: the anticipatory bloodlust that accompanied him, ready for the fight…and the sweet scent of Morrigann's arousal. 

The former would be sated by night's end and he vowed that the latter would be banished from his mind at the onset of bloodshed. 

Somehow he knew that vow would not be met. 

~~~

Pain radiated through his body and though it had not yet approached the purple beast's touch a few weeks before, he knew that he was in more trouble tonight. 

He drug himself through the streets, his mind focused on the young woman that never left his thoughts since they had met. He stumbled several times and bit back a cry each time his arm brushed against a fence or the concrete. There was no doubt that it was broken, and in several places, but it wouldn't stop him from reaching her. 

Her. 

His mind focused on her; the sigh that escaped those puckered lips when he touched her in a certain way, the wide-eyed expression whenever he walked towards her. She trembled when he reached for her and whimpered when his fingertips trailed down her back, when he teased the flesh just above her waistline with deft precision. If he could only reach her, he would be whole. 

When he reached his destination, a wane smile tinted his haggard face and he stumbled up to the door. He used the threshold to prop himself up and it took all his strength to raise a hand towards the doorbell. It was not necessary. 

The door was thrown open and he looked up anxiously. Even before his eyes took in her familiar form, the fragrance of her--the power, the femininity, the stolen innocence--it was a fruit for his senses. But the overwhelming scent of her fear when their eyes locked nearly crippled him and in that moment his appetite for her was so vociferous that nine years could not satiate his need. 

He licked his lips and it was then that she screamed. The distraction was enough for his light to shine through and he whispered to her…

"Jay…" As the name spilled from his lips she was on him. Her fists struck face and chest and ribs, damaging him even further. He used his good arm to deflect most of the blows aimed at his face but she pounded his body with a brutal intensity until his arm fell to the ground. When their eyes met, she hesitated and the darker part of him, the part that remembered the taste of her blood struck. 

With a strength he could not have possessed, he sat up, grasping her around the waist. Before she could fight, he sank his teeth into the exposed flesh of her neck. The world fell away then, the exotic flavor of her blood arresting any other conceivable stimulation. His hand trailed down the expanse of her back and for one moment, she too, succumbed to the building desire. That moment was broken almost immediately and his mouth opened in a wordless scream when the stake penetrated his chest. His head cracked against the pavement and even as darkness began to overtake him and he saw the glint of metal in her hand, the sight of those wild cerulean green orbs terrified him. Not because he saw the dagger ready to slit his throat, but because he knew with an unquestioning certainty that, this time, she would fight back…

~~~

The fear choked her and she couldn't have told anyone how she breathed much less screamed. All she knew was that when his tongue darted out and those eyes widened with desire something in her rebelled. Without a thought, Jay pounced and her fists rained down upon his stunned form. She didn't care what he looked like now, all she needed to see were those eyes; those eyes that had raked across her naked flesh, had smiled at her when she begged him to stop. She ignored the tenderness she remembered when he thought she had passed out and her own perverted need for him to touch her, to talk to her. She focused on the pain and humiliation and when her mind replayed that first time, when he had plowed through her innocence, she screamed. It was not from fear but from a deeply rooted rage that could only be quenched by his death. Still, when his hand fell away from his face and she looked into the eyes, something was different. It was him, but it wasn't. It was as if…

Her hesitation cost her. Before she knew what was happening, his arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her to his chest. Her face crumpled into a wordless scream when his teeth broke through her flesh. There were no sharp fangs to ease the infiltration but her blood flowed just the same. Splinters from where she gripped the stake dug into her palm but the pain was secondary to the unwanted need that pulsed through her veins. Her head bobbed to the rhythm of his sucking and Jay's lower body began to rock with his swallows. His fingers played a familiar tune along the jut of her spine and for a brief moment Jay allowed the contentment to wash over her. But when she remembered the atrocities he delivered against her, the spell was broken and she drove the stake into his chest. 

When he didn't dust, she glanced down and saw that she had missed the heart. Pulling the dagger from its sheathe attached to her belt, she resolved to cut the bastard's head off. She ignored the thought that something was different about him and readied her task but when she raised the dagger into the air, something slammed into her from behind, propelling the air from her lungs. Strong arms twisted their way around her and she fought; nothing could stop her from finishing this. He was responsible for her scars, emotional and physical and he had to…"It'shim!" she shouted, trying to twist away. "It's him!It's him!It's him!"

When Jay heard the voice of her mother and her arms around Jay, everything fell away. She glanced over at the body with the stake protruding from its chest and recognized CJ's still form. Her mind replayed the images of what she had done, splicing together scenes of her torture at the hands of Seth. When the face of Spike, her Daddy, interspersed with the other pictures, her strength trickled from her body. 

"Oh god, what did I do? What did I do?" She couldn't control the shivers that wracked her petite frame and she could only guess that her Mum's strength prevented her from flying apart, shattering and dissolving into an unrecognizable mist of tortured emotions. 

"It's okay, sweetie," her mother cooed in her ear, "Mommy's here, Mommy's here. I'm not gonna leave you, baby, I'm gonna be right here for you, luv." 

The sound of her father's endearment tore the final strand of her nerves from their moorings and Jay's mind was lost in cacophonous pleas for her mother. 

TBC in…._Stitches in Time_

__


	34. Stitches in Time

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 33

__

Stitches in Time

June 15th, 2002

Early Morning

His eyes plundered the half-naked form of his prey. Her body was a canvas of scars, all received at his hands. She killed dozens of the demonic forces sent after her and it hadn't been until he arrived that she knew fear. He'd taken some blows from her (his face still held the jagged slash her stake had made) but the outcome was never in doubt. Despite her power, she was mortal, not like him. She could die, he couldn't. 

But her death was the furthest thing from his mind…

The darkness, so complete in its form, began to melt away. He was no longer devoid of his senses and the pain that bloomed through his flesh and bone attested to that. Still, he couldn't quite swim up from the depths and focused as best he could on the outside world. 

"--okay." 

"--we don't know…" 

"…bloody kill him!" 

"Spike, please, he didn't…" 

"…should but dead but…"

"…heal so fast?" 

Their voices were familiar but were unidentifiable in his state. No one's except for the young woman next to him. 

"…gonna be fine, CJ…" He wanted to respond, to wipe the sadness from her voice but he couldn't. She squeezed his hand and, gathering his remaining strength, CJ returned the squeeze and fell into oblivion's awaiting arms. 

~~~

She didn't know how to calm him. His eyes were no longer that beautiful blue but were tinged the dirty amber as he fought to reign his demon in. He'd arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes after they had, with Dawn and Willow in tow. When she told him what happened, he'd barreled through the halls, knocking bystanders away, ignoring the pain from the chip. She'd caught up to him before he did anything to CJ but Dawn's pleading eyes were what had diffused his wrath. 

So, for the last twenty minutes, Buffy watched Spike pace back and forth on the roof, never acknowledging her presence. 

"Bloody fuckin son of a whore," he growled and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Aside from he violent body language, the litany of curses that had fallen for his lips the entire time they had been on the roof had started to grate on Buffy's nerves. She was all for the protective vibe he was emitting for Jay but, goodness, give it a rest already. 

She bit back a scream when those demon eyes glared at her from a few inches away. Damn vampire speed. 

"Did you just say 'give it a rest'?" Had she really said that aloud? Buffy started to protest but decided against it. Puffing her chest out, she hopped off the bench and pushed him--not too hard--away. 

"If I remember correctly, my exact words were 'Give it a rest already'." She folded her arms over her chest and, were she not giving her stare of death, she would have missed the fraction of a second when his eyes caressed her breasts. _He still wants me, _she thought giddily but stamped out her burgeoning hope when Casual Indifference Spike--god he could be so aggravating--made an appearance. 

"Whatever you say, Slayer," he mumbled and pulled a crumpled pack of Marlboros from his duster pocket. 

Buffy closed her eyes, set on counting to ten but when she heard the rustle of leather heading _away _from her, she growled in frustration and hustled in front of him, blocking his path. 

"Where do you think you're going?" She punctuated each word with a poke to his chest and jutted her lip out just like so. 

"Gonna go for a walk, there a rule against that?" 

"No," she said blandly, "except for the security guards that are waiting for you to cause a scene so they can thwap you with their big wooden sticks…and probably tasers, too." 

Spike's jaw twitched and Buffy braced herself for the meltdown she knew was about to come. So she was taken unawares when he whirled on his heels and stomped over to the edge of the roof, tossing a "fine" over his shoulder. 

Buffy blinked at his stiff figure before she walked over to him, each step cautious. As much as she loved plowing through the landmine that was Spike's personality, tonight called for a more introspective approach. Nerves were on end right about now and as much as she was worried about Jay--who was now with Tara--she knew her daughter would be okay. Spike on the other hand, she truly didn't know. 

"So," she said. She stood next to him, not touching but so close that the cool beat of his flesh caromed off her windbreaker although not before seeping underneath the crevices. "What's going on?" She apologized with a sheepish smile when he glared at her as if she asked him to sunbathe with her at noon. _Okay, that didn't come out right. _"Spike…"

"Save it, Slayer," he said and waved his hand in front of him. "All the niceties in the world ain't gonna change what I'm feelin about now so don't waste your time." 

"And what are you thinking?" 

"Are you that daft naturally," he snarled, "or is it the dye bleedin into your brain? What the bloody 'ell do you think I'm thinkin? Our lil Bitlet gets attacked by Dawn's boyfriend who just so happens to be the reincarnation of the bastard who…'urt 'er." 

"We don't know that…" 

"Don't we? Don't know about you, pet, but Jay's word's good enough for me. Sides, you saw what he tried to do." 

Buffy's heart dropped at his reference and she forced the bitterness down before it ripped into him. Taking several deep breaths she asked, "So, seeing is believing then?" The immediate wilt of his features told Buffy that he knew where she was going with it and before she could discern the emotional disturbances that took residence in his eyes, he turned away. 

"Guess so," he murmured. 

"So what does that tell me about you?" She tried to maintain an even tone but the hurt and resentment bleed into her words. When Spike flinched, the anger that she'd been holding in check exploded. The next thing Buffy knew, Spike was sprawled on the ground, staring up at her in shock. 

"What the bloody 'ell was that for?" He wasn't holding his face so she hadn't hit him, a part of her realized but that didn't abate the days of pent-up frustration. 

"Where in the hell do you get off playing the victim?" She yelled. 

"Victim?" He stood on shaky legs and brushed his jeans off. "If bein bullied by the slayer ain't bein' the victim, luv, then I don't know what is." The teasing hid behind his words infuriated her even more and she had to consciously hold her fists down. 

"You think this is funny?" 

Spike sighed and glanced over her shoulder, to his left, at her lips but he couldn't go long without staring into her eyes, which she knew weren't the friendliest right about now. "No, luv, I…" 

"I ain't your 'luv'. How can I be when you're out gallivanting with some other slut, practically fucking her in the club?"

"I didn't…we didn't--we didn't shag." 

"That's not the point!" She yelled and even she was startled by the intensity of her voice. "The point is, Spike, that you were with another woman when you were supposed to be in love with me. Even if you didn't go further than kissing her…" She knew that look well--Angel had it when he left, so did Riley. Spike hung his head in shame and it felt as if her world was falling faster into oblivion. 

"You did--" she could barely squeeze the words out of her tightening chest. "You did do more than kiss, didn't you?" When he raised his head, the shine in his eyes was answer enough. Grabbing his biceps, Buffy squeezed, never taking her eyes off of his. _I don't wanna know, I don't wanna know. _But she had to, she _needed _to hear the words. "What else?" 

"She…she went down on me." Something in her cracked and Buffy's legs nearly gave out. She closed her eyes, wishing away the images that came unbidden at his confession. His hands in another woman's hair as she took him into her mouth, directing her ministrations as a name other than Buffy's fell from his lips. But fighting it did nothing and Buffy watched in horror as her mind pictured Spike roar and filling the other woman's mouth with his spent seed. She didn't know why but this hurt more than if he would've admitted to having sex with the skank. Knowing that he found pleasure by some other woman's lips tore at something in the slayer. Besides the one time effort with Riley, she'd never had another man's cock near her lips and she _definitely _hadn't tasted all of someone like she had with him. As precious as sex was, going down on Spike, tasting his seed was so much more intimate to her. And to know that he…

"Buffy, I'm sorry." Her laughter was hollow even to her ears and when she realized that she was in his arms she pulled away. 

"Sorry? You let some ho suck your…suck you off and all you have to say is sorry? Hell, while you're at it, you might as well let her bite you. Oh my god," she whispered when his lips tightened. "You did, didn't you? She was a vamp and you let her bite you?" 

"I didn't _let _her do anything," he said. 

"Oh, please, Spike. You're not going with the 'I was out of my head' excuse, are you? Cause, if you are, that's just sad." Yeah, sarcasm. Bright, blinding sarcasm. That was the only way to stave the tears rising within her. 

"I didn't…I didn't want her to." 

"So, what?--she forced you?" She caught his nearly imperceptible nod and shook her head. "So, she raped you, is that what you're saying?" 

She saw that jaw tick again but it wasn't in anger. Was that humiliation? Hell no, what did he have to be humiliated about? 

Buffy shrugged and turned away. "Kinda hard to rape the willing, wouldn't you say…" Her chest slammed against the wall before she knew it and Spike's hard body pressed her into the brick. 

"What, pet," he growled in her ear and Buffy shivered at the dangerous tone. "You don't think a man can get forced to do things he don't want to?" 

"Get. Off." 

"Answer the question." 

She tried pushing off against the wall but the angle he held her at allowed no movement; she was at his mercy. And she couldn't help the raw pulse of desire that flared in her womb. 

"Smells like someone's excited," he whispered and ground his jean clad erection against her ass. 

"Hardly." She tried to sound angry but it came out more as a needful sigh. 

"So what would you do, pet, if I decided to have a go at you like this; you up against the wall, helpless. All you could do was take it and hope to like it, you know." 

Buffy's heart thumped against her ribcage and the first tinge of fear slithered between the columns of her spine. Still, she couldn't reign in the signals her traitorous body emitted. 

"You wouldn't." 

"Why not?" 

"Cause…" she had trouble breathing. The combined flare of arousal with her mounting fear was overpowering and Buffy's tongue refused to obey her commands. 

"Cause what?" He repositioned himself and before she could take advantage of it, she was ground into the wall further and his hand snaked up her shirt. He squeezed her breast roughly and she cried out. 

"Spike, stop it." She was shaking now, her nerves dancing on the edge of need; need to be touched, need to be let go. Buffy didn't know if she wanted this to continue or to ball up in a corner and cry. 

"Why, pet?" His hand slid down her stomach and caressed the span just below her waistline. "Cause you say no? But what about what your body's saying? It's begging me to slide into you, to take control and give you what you want, even if you're saying no. You want that, don't you? Want me to fuck you like this. Want me to hold you down…" 

All of the sudden, her arousal was overshadowed by the stifling feel of helplessness and her slayer strength seemed to abandon her. "Please, Spike," she said, tears of shame prickling at the corners of her eyes. 

The weight against her back disappeared instantly and Buffy sank to the ground. She tried to hide her cries by covering her mouth but there were no vibrations against her palm. Instead, it was as if they were next to her, close to her. Buffy turned towards the voice and saw Spike huddled into himself not five feet away. His face was buried in those beautiful hands and he rocked back and forth. "Oh, god, Buffy," he moaned. "I'm so sorry, so sorry. I'm so sorry." Despite the frightening moment prior, the magnetic connection between them overpowered her trepidation and she crawled over to him, ignoring the concrete biting into her palms. 

"Spike?" She reached out to touch him and he shrank away. "Spike, come on, stop that." He didn't pull away this time and Buffy's hand stroked his arms and when she thought he was ready, she pulled his hands away from his face. The stricken glaze of his eyes made her gasp and she tentatively reached out to caress his face. 

"I'm so sorry, Buffy," he said, never taking his eyes off her. "So sorry, luv. I was tryin to show you but I went to far." 

Goosebumps prickled at her flesh at the memory of helplessness. She fought through it and set her eyes on his. "You did. You went too far, Spike. But," she said before he could interrupt. "I know why you did it. It may not have been the best thing to do but…but I understand now." 

"You do?" 

"Yeah, I do. Just because your body reacts to the stimulation doesn't mean that you want it."

The strained look on Spike's face dissipated but there was still an unease cut into his features. When he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, Buffy knew he was about to speak and though she needed to hear what he had to say, something inside her decided now wasn't the best time for a heart to heart. So she kissed him. 

There was nothing overly sexual about it. Her lips brushed against his for several beats before his mouth parted and he ran his experimentally ran his tongue against her lower lip. Even when she allowed him accessed and he massaged her tongue with his, they maintained control over the lust that usually erupted through a single touch. Only when she needed to breathe did Buffy withdraw and she took in the man who had stolen her heart. 

"I love you, you know." He started to say something but she placed two fingers over his lips. "No, don't say anything. Not now. Spike, you really hurt me with what you did but…I handled it badly. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt on it. I should've trusted your love for me. I didn't and for that, I'm sorry." 

"Don't, luv," Spike murmured and cupped her face between his hands. "No one in their right mind would've thought otherwise to what they saw. 'Sides, I didn't fight to much to get your attention." 

"It doesn't matter now," she said and pulled him to stand up with her. "All that matters is that you know that I forgive you and I'm here for you." She smiled at the childlike wonder in his eyes and embraced him in her arms. The cool leather and the chill of his flesh calmed the antsy part of her that was still stinging from the unintentional infidelity but she could deal. 

"I promise you, pet," he said as they walked towards the exit, hand in hand, "you won't have to worry bout it again. Never 'urt my slayer. Never again…" 

_The noises had escalated into a cacophonous frenzy that took the slayer's breath away. The sweet musk of sex drifted through the partial opening and Buffy coughed involuntarily. She raised a shaking hand towards the door and brushed her fingertips against the splintered wood... _

"You all right, luv?" 

Buffy shook her head, clearing the residual aches brought on by the vision, and smiled. "I'm fine. Just wanna get back to Jay." Spike gave her a curt nod and, kissing her on the forehead, led the slayer through the door. 

As good as her hand felt in his as they descended the steps, Buffy couldn't help but cringe at the possibility that the pain she'd felt from seeing him just kissing someone was only the beginning. That had only been a pinprick; the gash still hadn't occurred. But when it did, the wounds would not just be carved into her. They all were going to bleed and she didn't know if they would be able to staunch the flow before it was too late. 

~~~

The hand stroking her back and Tara's soft words were the only thing that kept Jay grounded. She rocked in Tara's arms, silent tears trickling down her red cheeks. She felt nothing save for the tremendous knot of confusion that bubbled and expanded in her gut. 

Seth was alive. 

True, the body that she'd pummeled wasn't his but those eyes…those eyes, she'd never forget the malice that always greeted her screams and pleas for mercy. She had no doubt that CJ housed the bastard's soul, especially after his teeth had torn into her neck. She'd come so close to killing him, ending the nightmarish thoughts of him returning to claim her. Before her mother had interrupted, Jay's vindication was nigh. Killing the thing that had used her for his--its--pleasure would have put to rest the self-loathing that still rested inside of her. She had been so close, so close. 

So why was she relieved that he was still alive? 

"Jay?" A hoarse voice not belonging to Tara whispered. Jay looked up to see Dawn's pained face staring back at her and instantly felt guilty. So consumed in her desire to see Seth obliterated, regardless of the body he inhabited, Jay had forgotten that the man that now lay in the hospital recuperating had a family that loved him--his aunt was by his side now--as Dawn had been earlier. Oh, the teen may not have said it but Jay knew the far off gaze, the rising heartbeat of a woman in love. 

"Hey," she said and slid from Tara's hold. She stood in front of Dawn, and studied her shoes, trying to overcome the awkwardness of the moment. What could she say--that Dawn's boyfriend used her as his personal…? _Or I could say that I'm torn between wanting to carve him up and the need to be next to him. God, I'm sick. _

"He's gonna be okay." 

"That's good," Tara said and put her hand on Jay's shoulder. 

"Yeah," the teen agreed. "I mean, the stake wound has healed pretty well…" 

"The doctors haven't asked any questions?" Jay asked and kept her tone emotionless. 

Dawn shrugged. "Well, they were giving him these odd looks but this is Sunnydale, the world's capital of freaky shit that goes by the wayside." 

"Dawn," Tara admonished and Jay saw the hints of smile slice through the melancholic mood of the younger girl. 

"Well, it's true. Besides," she added, "his aunt is some sort of administrative liaison to University Hospital in LA." 

"Wow," Tara said and Jay's eyes bounced from the witch to the Key. 

"What's that mean." 

"Well," Tara started but Dawn interrupted her. 

"Beats me. All I know is she carries a lot of power. She makes her own hours, you know. Oh and Tara, before I forget, Willow's looking for you." 

"OK, thanks Dawnie." Tara made her way down the hall but before she disappeared around the corner, turned back and asked, "Are you two gonna be okay?"

Jay rolled her eyes and Dawn snorted and replied, "Come on, Tara. You're talking to one kick ass Slayer from the future and an ageless entity of good and evil combined into One. I think we can handle everything." The young Wicca smiled shyly and continued towards her destination. 

"I love Tara, Jay, but she can get more fussy than Buffy," the teen said and plopped onto the bench the two blondes had just vacated. 

Jay laughed and sat down next to Dawn. "Yeah, but she does it in such a sweet way, you really can't complain." 

"Hello, youngest brat here. There's absolutely nothing that I can't complain about." 

The slayer shook her head. "Sorry, D, but you're older than all of us." 

Dawn scowled and crossed her legs. "All that counts is that I'm in the body of a sixteen year old and if you wanna get technical, I'm really only about a year old." 

"So, if you're that young," Jay supplied, "then I guess you don't need to be lip locking with that boyfriend of yours." As soon as the words left her mouth, Jay felt the mirth of the past few minutes sucked out the hall. Dawn's eyes glazed over and the slayer felt the familiar stirrings of fear begin anew. 

"Dawn, I…" 

But the One held her hand up. "Don't, Jay, please don't. I…I don't know what is going on. My boyfriend leaves me in the cemetery, he gets attacked by someone or something, shows up to your doorstep with eyes of a vamp who's…dead. Then after taking a beating, he takes a bite out of you and you shove a stake into his chest. What next? Angelus coming back to town? Spike and Dru gonna go after Buffy?" 

"Dawn, what happened in the Bronze?" 

The younger woman's eyebrows scrunched in confusion and something that looked suspiciously like... "What do you mean?" 

"When Seth disappeared. What happened to him?" There was no mistaking it now; the guilt rode up on Dawn's flesh and any sympathy Jay had disappeared, replaced by a carnivorous anger she barely contained. "You didn't kill him, did you?" 

Dawn turned watery eyes towards her niece and she tried to speak. Jay stood, the rage palpable, and glared at the brunette. "I can't believe you did that. How could you not kill the bastard?"   
"Because I loved him," she whispered and Jay shook her head. 

"In love with a monster." 

"CJ's not a monster," Dawn yelled and a nurse admonished the outburst, warning them to keep quiet. "He's not a monster," she repeated and Jay saw the fire dancing in those dark eyes. "He doesn't even know." 

"But you do, don't you." 

"Not until today," she admitted and slunk back onto the bench. "I've never been pulled towards someone like him and I didn't know why." She laughed hoarsely. "But when we were in his room earlier, I had this vision…I don't remember what it was about but it…I knew then who he was but didn't want to admit it. 

"Jay, I'm so sorry," Dawn said and held Jay's hand in hers. "I know what he did…to you, but you have to see that Seth isn't CJ." 

The slayer shook her head and removed the bandage from her neck. Although the wound had started healing, the angry teeth imprints from where he had dug into her flesh were still visible. 

"Look at this, Dawn," Jay said, her tone resigned. "Take a good look. This is nothing," she said and waved towards the injury. "There were times when my entire body looked like this; Seth's teeth punctured every sensitive spot on my body, Dawn. The things he did to me…were more than despicable. And you know what? He did it so often, said so many horrible things to me that even while I begged him to stop, a part of me wanted his touch, wanted his attention. But no more, Dawn. No more. 

"You say that CJ's not Seth but wonder why you were drawn to him. You can't have it both ways; either he is or he isn't." 

"It's not that simple." 

Jay kneeled in front of the young woman and said, "Well, I'll make it simple for you; until this shit with Gabriel is over, he's safe from me. We're gonna need his help to get through this. But after…if you care for him Dawn, you'll keep him away from me. Cause, fair or not, when all this is done, his ass is mine. 

"I'm through playing the victim. I'm the slayer for fucks sake, and it's time I start acting like one." 

"But you can't…he's…" 

"What? Human? I'm not my mother, Dawn. An evil human is worse to me than a vamp and just because I've never killed one before doesn't mean that I won't start." With that said, she stood and started to walk away. Similar to Tara's exit earlier, Jay stopped just before turning the corner and said over her shoulder, "Besides, who said I was going to kill him? It hurts so much more when you have to live through the humiliation. Trust me, I know." 

She didn't stay for Dawn's reply but fled into the night, eager for a kill. Only when the wind picked up and blew across her face did she realize she was crying. 

~~~

His eyes were closed but his senses were tapped into everything around him. The trance had lasted from the time the others had been enveloped by the portal. How long ago that was he didn't know. Soon it wouldn't matter because he would join them and orchestrate the collapse of the Old World. 

And the part of him that remembered the slayer's love salivated at finally having her again. He'd kept his secret closed even to Emerald but there would be no more longing, no more of the angelic whining inside of him. His time was almost at hand and his reign would be legend. 

And by his side would be the woman who would always hold his heart. 

"Buffy," Gabriel whispered and like a prayer to the heavens, his plea was answered by an influx of power. _All I need is a little more time, _he thought and laughed. Time didn't matter now. As an immortal, he had all the time in the world and that would come in handy; there would be no rush subverting the slayer's will. She would be his and, in the end, that's all that mattered. 

TBC in…_Rocket's Red Glare…_


	35. Rockets Red Glare

****

Severed Ties

Chapter 34

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Rockets Red Glare

Terribly sorry folks at the extended delay. True, life has been a bit hectic, I still should have found more time to write this. Fear not though. I'm recommitted to ST and hope to have a chapter up every Monday from here on out. 

Now, since it's been awhile, I'll give a quick run down of the goings on for the last few chappies. 

****

Previously on Buffy: Hank showed up, wanting custody of Dawn. Spike told Hank what he thought about that and it drew Buffy's ire. They had a fight, he left and when she went to find him, she caught him sucking face with Morrigann. Angel has a talk with Hank that improves Buffy and the elder Summers relationship. Dawn and CJ are getting closer and the former Key, currently the One, sees visions of things she doesn't understand. Faith and Xander are drawing closer, too. They save Buffy when she runs out of the Bronze after catching Spike, meeting up with the bad guys from the future. Spike is run out when he shows up and has a good sulk before Dawn chats with him. During the chat, something happens to CJ and when he shows up at the door, Jay (who's distanced from everyone for the most part, answers it. She sees the eyes of Seth though and when CJ attacks, she knows the truth. Buffy intervenes before she can kill him. In the hospital, Buffy and Spike talk and they mend fences and the slayer tries to push away the memory of her vision about Spike and Morrigann. Jay and Dawn talk and Jay promises Dawn not to bother CJ "until this shit with Gabriel is over", after which she will go after him. Gabriel finally admits, during meditation, his greatest prize once all is said and done…

July 3rd, 2002

11:49 pm

Stars danced in Buffy's vision when the vampire's fist connected with her jaw. Her knees buckled from the blow but she remained upright, parrying a right cross just before it caved in her face and retaliated with a round kick to the demon's ribcage. The vampire howled, muting the cracking bones, and fell to its knees. Before it could react, the slayer pulled the blade from its sheathe strapped to her waist, and decapitated the demon. 

"Kinda sloppy there, Slayer," the British voice commented and Buffy rolled her eyes. She folded her arms across her chest and watched the platinum blonde limp into view. Her annoyance was temporarily forgotten when she saw the jagged wound across his jaw that was still bleeding. 

"Are you…" she started but Spike cut her off with a wave of his hand. 

" 'm fine, slayer. Just that Polgara didn't wanna go gently into that good night, 's all. Don't get your knickers in a twist over lil old me." 

Buffy huffed and thwapped him in the head. 

"Oi! Watch it, now," he said and fell into step next to her. 

"Or you'll what? Scowl me to death?" She chuckled at Spike's indignant snort but kept her eyes roaming the darkness for demonic activity. 

"You sure know how to emasculate a bloke, luv. Just snip off the testes at the root," he said and she groaned when he demonstrated, complete with Spike hand movements.

"Thanks for that lovely imagery. That'll really help getting me back into bed with you." 

"Gotta try somethin', don't I?" He replied and she slapped him in the chest. Despite his leering tone, Buffy knew that Spike was anything but confident when it came to their relationship. The last two weeks had seen it become something it hadn't been since the first month of her return from the dead. Thanks to Angel, everyone now had cell phones and the slayer and her platinum blonde had used them to talk on the phone, despite him still shacked up in the Summers' basement. Rarely did they spend time alone except for patrolling and a few conversations out on the porch. For all intents and purposes, they had gone back to the courting they'd unceremoniously skipped all those months ago and Buffy had to admit that she liked it. 

True, she missed the physical wow-ness of their physical encounters but she felt that the were both still stinging from the Bronze fiasco and taking their time to get to know one another had been something both had agreed upon. 

The digital tone of Rob Zombie's _'Dragula'_ broke the amiable silence and the slayer gave her boyfriend an amused look. He shrugged and dug into the pocket of his duster for the phone. 

" 'lo?" he said after flipping it open. "Patrollin' over at Harrison, you? How many dusties? Ha, we beat you, luv. Slayer dusted seven…well, four but I did in a Polgara. Snapped that skewer off and impaled the blighter with it. Right you are, Shadow. This usually isn't a busy place. Yeah, well, that's how it's been everywhere the last two weeks. Yeah, yeah…wanna talk to the slayer? You don't have to save him, luv, we wouldn't blame ya. Oi, now, watch the threats to the man parts...ta, luv, see you tomorrow." 

"So, how's Faith and Xander doing over at Restfield?" Buffy asked when Spike shut the phone off. 

"Thirteen vamps so far. I'll be buggered before I let the whelp outdo me." 

"Geez, what is up with all this macho man BS?" 

Spike pulled a cigarette from the inside pocket of his duster and lodged it between his lips. "Don't really know, luv," he said and lit the fag, "but I'd like to ask you and Faith the same thing." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" the slayer asked guiltily. 

"Oh, nothing. Just that the whole competition bit's not just a guy thing." 

Buffy rolled her eyes, annoyed at Spike's supernatural ability to get to things she'd rather he not. He was right about the slayer competition thing; even in her withdrawal from much of the group, Jay usually made time to gloat when she led the night in kills. With that said, plausible deniability was the way to go thus Buffy did the only thing she could think of--she stuck her tongue out at him. 

"Veeeery mature," Spike drawled and flick ash from the tip of his cigarette to the ground. 

"I'm a slayer," she replied, "there's nothing in the slayer handbook that says that I have to act like an adult." 

"Of course not," he agreed and they walked for several minutes in silence until he stopped and regarded her with curious eyes. 

"What?" she asked, partially irked and partially aroused by his stare. Damn body, always reacting to that cobalt gaze of his. 

"Well," he said and dropped the rest of his fag to the ground and crushed it underneath his boot heel. "Just that, oh, I don't know…just have a strong, sneakin' suspicion about that slayer handbook of yours." 

"There _is _one, ya know." 

"Of that, I've no doubt, pet." 

"Okay, then what's with the alliteration mumbo jumbo?" 

He ignored her comment and narrowed his eyes, as if searching for an answer that refused to make itself known. 

"Creeping me out here, Spike," she said and started to walk away when he called her name. 

"What?" 

"It's just that…you haven't actually **_read_ **that slayer handbook, have you?" 

It took a moment for her to process the thought and by the time she did, Spike had jogged off into the night, cackling away. 

"You bastard!" she shouted and chased after him. And though a frown marred her features, Buffy couldn't keep the bubbling warmth at bay as it roiled in her gut and up into her chest. Before she could stop herself, a peel of laughter escaped her throat. She would have stopped were it not for suddenly being tackled to the ground by a streaking shape of black. 

"Gotcha, luv," Spike said and Buffy's laugh fell off into giggles as they rolled on the ground and nimble fingers danced across her ribcage. She fought but the battle was lost and Buffy couldn't be any happier. 

*****

__

1:42 am

She streaked through the graveyard, oblivious to the tombstones and trees blurring in her peripheral. She ignored the two vampires in the distance, rising from the ground as babes from a womb, and maintained her pace. She would have been home already but had decided for one more round in the cemeteries, dragging a sullen Faith along while Xander went home for the night. Luckily for the girl they found being held down by three men as another…

Jay erased the thought and lengthened her stride. The bastard had a good head start but he wouldn't get away. She saw him not twenty yards away, his blue jacket a beacon in the distance. She and Faith had dispatched the others without a sweat, both relishing in the breaking bones and horrific screams of the would-be rapists. If it was up to her, they'd all be dead but Faith had stayed her hand and told her to go after this one. At first she'd jogged halfheartedly, pissed at the brunette slayer for sending her off like a schoolgirl on an errand. That was until she thought about the opportunity. Faith may have stopped her from killing the others, but no one would be around when she caught up to him. 

A feral smile split her features and a roar pierced the air. The bastard turned around, his eyes bright with fear and he screamed. He stumbled for several yards before he fell. He scrambled to his feet but by that time Jay was close enough and she bounded the remaining yards separating them and slammed her shoulder into his kidney. 

Blue jacket howled in pain but Jay showed no mercy. Grabbing his right arm, she wrenched it behind his back as hard as she could. Muscles and tendons ripped and she watched as his bone popped from the socket. 

"Does it hurt?" she growled viciously, pressing down on his forearm until that bone, too, broke. His shrieks sounded like that of a dying animal but it drove the slayer only to further cruelties. 

"So you're tough enough to hold down a helpless girl and _rape _her?" Her heel smashed down on the back of his hamstring, shattering his thighbone. "Not as tough when the woman fights back, are you?" Another shattering blast of breaking bones pilfered the air when she straddled him and slammed her fist into his ribcage. Blood spurted from his mouth, followed closely by whimpering pleas for mercy. But Jay heard none of this; all she heard was the sweet surrender of his body breaking under her blows. 

"Had enough?" she asked after a few more minutes. The man convulsed between her legs and for the first time Jay was drawn to the staccato pulse of his jugular. Her tongue swiped at the perspiration dotting her lips and she leaned forward, her eyes intent on the erratic beat of life just below the skin. It would be so easy just to rip the skin and have that warm liquid flow down her throat. No one would ever have to know, no one…

Just as she was about to nestle her chin between his shoulder blade, strong hand ripped her away from the kill. Jay reacted instinctively and rammed her elbow towards the face of the intruder. But the culprit ducked and Jay lost her balance. She fell on her butt and stared up at her assailant. The anger and supernatural rage that had drove her actions the previous minutes had all but vanished at the singular glance into the familiar brown eyes of her namesake.

"Faith…" she said, her tongue feeling as if it had swelled. The brunette stared at her, not in rage but in astonishment--and fear. Faith eyes drifted to the body and Jay saw the horror in that split the other slayer's features. It only lasted a moment before Faith tore her gaze away from the carcass, fled to the bushes and vomited. 

Jay watched Faith's petite body dry heave after the contents of her stomach had been expunged. She could do nothing for the sickened slayer and turned her gaze towards what Faith had seen. 

As if for the first time, Jay laid eyes on the broken body five feet from her. She looked, with cerulean green eyes at the man before her and gasped at his damage body. It took only a fraction of a second for Jay to realize that her hands had been responsible for this crushed husk and when the memories flashed in her mind, she could do nothing but wail and she collapsed to the ground as the man breathed his final breath.

*****

__

2:56 am

Spike sat on the porch, lit cigarette dangling from his lip. Buffy had gone to bed a little over an hour ago, knowing that she and the other women still in Sunny D (Willow and Tara had gone on a Wiccan retreat for the holiday) were responsible for the food preparations. Spike and Giles would be doing the vast majority of the cooking, something both Brits had vehemently lobbied for once Buffy had volunteered to do the honors. The Fourth was tomorrow and, though he didn't quite give a fig about the American holiday, no way was he gonna turn down some good old-fashioned eats. Barbecue and corn were nummy treats even to the undead. 

The caw of a crow split the air and Spike's mind fell to the truth to why he was still awake. Though he'd yet to admit it to Buffy, he was concerned for Jay. Her behavior the last few weeks--though understandable in its erracticness considering the events she had lived through--unsettled him in a way he could not explain. 

_Can't or refuse to see? _the demon's voice whispered to him. He didn't try to silence the bugger, least of all for the simple fact that the demon part of him was seldom wrong. True, it often saw the dark in everything but in a town like Sunnydale, the dark often held the truth--truths that most people denied themselves. 

"Get a grip, you wanker," he said and ran tense fingers through his hair. He held his hand out in front of him and watched the minute tremble of the limb. Bugger. The tick of his extremities wasn't something that happened often to him--hardly ever, in fact--but when it did, there was usually trouble brewing of the major variety. Maybe it was a byproduct of hanging around Dru for a bleedin century or the power of Aurelius giving him warning to impending doom, but whatever it was, he didn't like it one bit. 

Almost as if the very air heard his qualm, the night carried the heavy scent of blood to the vampire's nostrils. Although the majority of what he smelled was from an unfamiliar source, there was a trace of someone's scent that Spike knew very well. 

He was off the steps and halfway down Revello before another thought could form. He saw the two figures turning onto the street, two petite women with one obviously supporting the other. From a distance it appeared that they were drunk but as Spike neared them he saw the blood covering their bare arms and the blotches that stood out on their dark clothing. 

"What happened?" Spike demanded and slid his arms around Jay's waist. 

"I killed him," Jay said and chuckled but there was a hysterical lilt to the sound. "I killed him." 

"Shadow," Spike growled. 

"Later," Faith replied and despite his vehemence to know, there was an edge to her voice that made him drop the issue. 

They made it to the house without incident and Faith took the young slayer to the bathroom while Spike waited outside, in part to make sure no one saw the two slayers (at Faith's behest) and also because he dared not leave his baby girl. 

It took the two slayers the better part of an hour to finish and when Jay opened the door, her short hair matted to her head and those wide eyes staring at him, tears brimming to the surface, Spike's heart swelled with a love that burned him more than anything he'd ever felt. 

"I don't wanna sleep alone tonight, Daddy," she said and rushed into his arms. Spike absorbed the impact of her little body against his and led her to the basement as she stifled sobs that nearly tore his undead heart out. 

"Don't worry, Bitlet," he said once he had her tucked in. "Daddy's here." He sat on the bed and she clung to his waist, her head leaning against the crook of his hip. He rocked her, humming a song his Mum had sung to him even into adulthood. It always soothed him, _Early One Morning _did, and had the same effect on his girl. 

Within five minutes her shivers had stopped and her breathing had evened out. 

"Damn, Capt'n," Faith said from the bottom of the stairs. He hadn't even heard her come down. "You sing that for me and I may have to reconsider my choice for who's my man." She attempted to leer at him but he saw right through it. Something was wrong and it wasn't just because his little girl had come home covered in blood. Faith was shook and that meant only one thing. 

Things were bollocksed up to the nth bloody degree. 

"So, you gonna tell him you're in a basement with his favorite undead fiend in some shorts that are barely there and a white tank top--sans the bra, of course?" 

"What will B ever think?" she asked and the worry was clear in her voice. 

"She wouldn't have to know," Spike whispered as he approached and with each step the atmosphere thickened with the truth he knew she was about to tell him, a truth he knew ever since he realized his daughter was splattered with human blood. It was a truth that he feared and knew with a certainty would never leave the sanctity of the basement, forever staying between him and the brunette in front of him. And as much as it pained him to keep it hidden from his love, it was something he knew Buffy could never know. 

*****

__

July 4th 2002

11:23 am

The shattering of a plate and a familiar British curse roused Jay from her sleep. Her first instinct was to bury her face under the pillow but when she inhaled the musky scent of the sheets covering her, she knew this wasn't her and Dawn's room. 

"Daddy?" she whispered and sat up in the makeshift bed. Save for the small stream of light peeking through the window at the opposite end of the room, she was shrouded in darkness. She shrugged and laid back down, her fingers interlaced behind her head, and let her mind drift with the sounds of activity above her. 

Her mind wandered as her eyes policed the ceiling. Last night had been one of her better days in the last few months, definitely the best since the confrontation with Set…CJ on the porch. 

An involuntary shiver raced up her spine and Jay banished the thoughts of seeing those eyes hellbent on her suffering. Nope, not this time, not after the wonderful night of slayage she'd gotten in. Oh she hadn't wanted to brag but eleven kills _prior _to meeting up with Faith and Xander had to have been the best. In fact, she guessed that was most likely the high for the week. And then the four dusted vamps when it was just she and Faith shot the total to fifteen. Oh, yeah, what a night. In fact, such a great night warranted maybe just a little more shuteye. 

"Yep," she said and burrowed further into the covers. "Jay here is gonna sleep until someone gets her up." She felt sleep's warm embrace wrap its arms around her and she returned the gesture. So close to utter satisfaction, her limbs became leaden wares and her mind slowly disengaged from the world around her…

"I know you're awake, Bitlet," Spike's baritone voice called from the top of the steps and Jay groaned in protest but made no motion to get up. "You can dilly all you want, luv, but you're gonna be up here slavin away like your Da is…bloody hell!" 

Jay dropped into uncontrollable giggles at her Da's antics and slid her head under the pillow. _He's not gonna get me without a fight _she thought and tensed when the creak of wooden steps reverberated through the basement. 

"I said--get up!" Spike shouted not a foot behind her and the slayer squealed and rolled out of bed. A frown creased her face and she was ready to wop vampire dad over the head with the pillow until she saw what he was wearing. 

His all-black attire was firmly in place, but over his torso was a white apron with the words 'Kiss the Chef' printed on the front. What drew her attention, however, was the 'bloody' written in what looked like lipstick between right about 'Chef'. It looked ridiculous. 

And it was bloody hilarious. 

"Glad you think it's funny," he deadpanned when she fell to the bed, holding her stomach. "And since you think it's so funny, Bitlet, I think I'll have you and your Mum on shuttling the eats out to our resident griller, which would be yours truly."

Her laughter fell away and her bottom lip jutted out. "But I wanted to do some grilling!" 

"Tough," he said and sauntered over to the steps. Just before bounding up to the kitchen, he glanced over his shoulder and said, "Maybe next time you won't brass off the Capt'n of this lil operation."

"But Daaad," she whined and scowled as he answered her with his trademark chortle. When he was finally gone, she sat on the bed, legs and arms crossed and she mustered the sourest look she could come up with. If he saw this…

"The pouting won't work, sweets," he called down. "Not when I got a slab of bloody meat in front of me to season." 

Jay groaned. In her time, the same was true. Put something good to eat in front of her Da and all the womanly powers of persuasion became ineffective. It was her (and her Mum's) kryptonite when it came to influencing him. And it looked to be a habit that had been a long time in the making. 

"Hoo-rah," she muttered without joy. Sometimes life just wasn't fair. 

*****

__

2:34 pm 

Morrigann delighted in the paradoxical look of pleasure and agony written across the human's face. Her fingers slid through his black hair as she rode him, each undulation of her hips a bit more forceful than the prior. The past twelve hours had been spent fucking this young man and though it had been fun, the coupling had been lacking in one important thing. 

"Morrie!" he screamed and she felt his warm seed pulsate inside of her. That singular action was enough to bring her over the edge and she lost control of the hunger and bit into his neck. 

She drained him in seconds without a fight and the pleasure of the bite was enough to bring him cresting to another orgasm before his heart stopped. She peeked once more as well and, afterwards, her tongue licked the puncture wounds embedded in his flesh.

"Have fun?" 

Morrigann turned from her position on top of the dead body and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Just a bit," she said and slid noiselessly to the floor. She slipped into the robe lying at the foot of the bed and approached the shimmering figure standing in the doorway. 

"Course," she said and caressed the air before the figure, "it would be so much better if you could join me." 

"Soon, my dear, so very soon." He gestured to the exanguinated corpse. "That gives credence to the term, 'little death', I'd say."

"Yes, well, Mr. Parker Abrams there was a distraction. Adequate, but not the most attentive of lovers." 

"Then again, what mortal could satisfy you, my succubus? I myself sometimes have a hard time keeping pace." 

She gave the figure a pleasureful smile and kissed the man's cheek, her lips passing right through his form. "Come now, Gabriel, never has there been an occasion where I have left your bed unsatisfied."

"True," Gabriel admitted. "I am quite the lover." Morrigann chuckled at his brazenness but said nothing. "Now that the pleasantries out of the way and your hunger somewhat sated, I have something for you to do." 

"Anything, my Lord." 

His eyes narrowed and Morrigann shivered in fear and lust as his brown eyes drank her in. "I asked you to lay low when you first left, no killing of our primary enemy…I've decided to amend that particular command." 

"I see. May I ask why?" 

He shook his head ruefully. "No, you may not. For now I need you do nothing save listen; I cannot maintain my presence here much longer." 

"Your will is my own," she said and bowed gracefully before him. 

"Good," he said and bade her closer with a single finger. "There's this place I'd like you to visit in LA…"

__

9:42pm

As he chomped down on his fifth helping of the night, Spike had to admit that the day had turned out pretty good, especially considering the way last night had ended. Taking a swig of his Corona, the vampire watched from the back steps as the others enjoyed the holiday. 

Seated around the table scrounged from the basement, Dawn, Cordelia, Xander and Faith were playing cards. Spike grinned as Dawn and Cordy won another hand. The Niblet's smile broke through the smoke of the grill and Spike was thankful for the reprieve she'd been given with CJ. Despite his earlier take on ripping her boyfriend's lungs out, the time since and subsequent talks with Buffy had calmed him and Spike had to admit to himself that something not the boy's fault was going on. So he hadn't objected to Dawn going to see him at the hospital (though it would have made little difference) and her spirits had been brightened when she had gone with CJ's aunt to bring him home. She'd spent most of her time at his house the past three days and were it not for the boy's insistence, she'd probably be over there now, tending to him like some sodding mother hen. As it was, she was having a good time of things. 

Just like his other two girls, Spike thought as he watched Buffy and Jay teasing the Poof. Spike would've loved to join them but he didn't want to interrupt the mother/daughter bonding that had been weeks in developing and it had culminated this morning when the two had worked in tandem during the food preparations. Now they pelted Angel with water balloons that had come out of the blue and the others laughed at the carnage.

"Sometimes I forget that, despite their trials and tribulations, they are still children." 

" 'lo, Rupes," Spike said and took another sip of beer. He glanced at the Watcher, who was dressed in a dark Polo shirt and khakis. He held a Corona in his hand and Spike tipped his own to Watcher. "Thought you retired for the evening after sweating it in that gulag of a kitchen this mornin'." 

"Yes, well, contrary to what you may think, I am not an old and stodgy bugger." 

Spike grinned and set the now empty bottle between them. He picked a cigarette from the pack and slipped it between his lips. "Your words, not mine." 

They spent several minutes in silence, enjoying the rest of the group who'd now turned to setting off fireworks. So lost in the moment that it took several seconds before Spike realized that Giles's intense gaze had fallen to him. 

"What?" he asked between puffs.

Giles shrugged and gave him a wry smile. "A Watcher and a vampire sitting outside while those destined to save the world set off fireworks and toddle around like a bunch of school children…it's rather refreshing." 

"Cheers to that," Spike replied and turned his eyes to the sultry brunette that sauntered over to the porch.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the British Boys' hangin' out havin a beer." 

" 'lo, Shadow." 

"Faith." 

The brunette slayer plopped down next to the platinum blonde and nudged him with her shoulder. "So what's poppin off, blondie?"  
"Discussin' philosophy with the good old Watcher here. Notwithstanding the run-on sentences and his otherwise over-explaining the obvious, he can be quite succinct when need be." 

"Yes, well," Giles said and stood, "on that note, I believe I shall fall back on your favorite past time, Spike." 

"Yeah, mate? Didn't particularly know you had a chit waitin for you to shag." He winked at the Watcher. "Looks like an old dog can learn new tricks." 

"So saith the soulless vampire that vanquishes evil alongside the slayer." 

"Checkmate for the Watcher in the GQ fuddy duddies," Faith said and she laughed when Giles rolled his eyes. 

"Tell Buffy I said goodnight and I'll see her in the morning." 

"B told me the two of you are having breakfast. Thanks for leavin' me outta it. I'm just drownin in tha love." 

"Faith…"

"Chill out, G-man," she said and smiled. "I'll hit you up some other time." 

"I'm sure that you will," he muttered and strode back into the house. 

"So," Spike said, flicking the ash from his cigarette, "something you wanna ask me?" 

"Jay looks pretty good." 

He glanced over to his daughter who was hurling firecrackers at a retreating Xander who, in turn, lobbed sparklers at her--quite ineffectively. 

"So, does she remember anything?" 

Spike took a final puff of the fag before crushing it under his boot. "Doesn't appear so." 

Faith brushed a lock of hair from her face and gave Spike a critical look. "That was some hardcore shit you pulled on her. Where'd ya learn that?" 

"Spend a century of unlife with a loon connected to the mystical, you pick up a thing or two." 

"Think she'll ever remember?" 

Spike opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. In theory, the mind wipe--for lack of a better term--was supposed to have a permanent effect on the recipient but Spike had spent enough time in the world to know that nothing was ever permanent. Whether or not it was the right decision, or even his to make, Spike wanted Jay to be rid of the memory of taking a human life and the hypnotism he'd performed had been the only option he could think of. Still, things like that could only do so much and the subconscious mind had a way of bringing things back with a fury. 

"Question of the day, luv." 

"And do you have an answer?" 

He was going to tell her no but he caught sight of the commotion in the yard. He sprinted the short distance to where everyone was gathered and nudged his way past Xander and Dawn. Please don't let it be Buffy, he thought and was relieved when he saw the center of attention was Angel. But relief soon turned to sympathy when brown eyes devoid of nothing but the sharpest pain glanced back up at him. It was a look he'd never associate with his Sire and in that moment, Spike loved Angel without reservation. 

"Peaches?" He turned to Buffy when Angel remained silent. "Slayer, what happened?" 

"I don't know," she answered. "He got a phone call and…and he just collapsed." 

"Who called?" 

"Kate Locksley," Cordelia answered and the crowd turned towards the brunette. Her eyes were blurry and tears rolled down her cheeks. She still cradled Angel's cell in her hand though there was no strength in her grip. 

"Who's that?" Dawn asked and made her way to the seer. 

"A detective in LA Angel used to work with." 

"What did she want?" Xander asked. 

"Gunn and Wesley...and Lorne…"

"What happened?" Jay asked. "Is everything all right?" 

"No," she replied and bit back a sob. "It's not…" 

Though he had no connection to the people she spoke of, Spike's insides tightened and before she revealed the truth, he knew exactly what she was going to say. 

"They're dead. They're all dead…" 

Silence descended upon the group and Spike glanced up at the sky. For the first time tonight, he noted the fireworks exploding forth, painting the sky red in their brilliance. 

__

To be continued in Chapter 36, **Advanced Tactics…**


	36. Advanced Tactics

Severed Ties 

****

Chapter 35

__

Advanced Tactics

Los Angeles 

Four hours earlier

He glanced at the files and back to Fred. Her eyes never wavered though the timid smile on her face--yeah, that was his girl--told Gunn all he needed to know. Still, he had to voice the question if only for him to hear the response himself. 

"You're kidding me, right? This is like one of those April Fool's jokes without the April though." 

"Everything is there, Charles," she said and gently took the file from his outstretched hand. She rifled through the papers, searching for the official request. She found it and, holding it up for him to see, read, "Denzel Washington formerly requests our services, starting July 31st, 2002." She dangled the letter, complete with letterhead of the actor's agent printed clearly at the top. 

Gunn snatched the paper from Fred and held it with both hands in a grip as if it would disappear if he didn't. "Denzel wants us? Seriously, he wants us?" 

Fred smiled, one of those smiles that lit his soul on fire, and she leaned over the desk separating them. "Evidently, aside from the complications of assimilating off the street gang members into 'Training Day', there were some local disturbances of a supernatural nature that disrupted filming." 

He frowned and leaned against the desk, letting it support the bulk of his weight. "That's funny, cause I sure don't remember seeing any headlines about gangbangin' ghosts wreckin' havoc on the set?" 

Fred rolled her eyes and he mocked the gesture. "Gee, Charles, I wonder why. It's not like the public is really going to believe that." 

"Not like it wouldn't be good for a bit of publicity." 

"If it was about ghosts and demons I'd agree…although that would probably come off as staged and more than a little self serving and it would more likely hurt the opening and…" 

"Fred, honey," Gunn said and kissed his girlfriend flush on the lips. When he pulled away, her breath came in jagged gasps, mirroring the steady pulse of his heart. His libido was in full force and it was taking a big-time effort not to take her right here on the desk. If Angel didn't hurry back soon, there was gonna be some surprised customers one of these days. 

"Can we please turn down the lust vibes, Sweet Cheeks," Lorne said as he sauntered in the room, Martini in hand. One look in his direction and Gunn was cured from feeling said vibes. Possibly ever again. 

Dressed in a lime green suit that was an eerie compliment to his skin tone and a tie that matched his blood red shoes and eyes, the demon was more than just a fashion wreck, he was just…

"Horrible," Fred said and Gunn snickered. Rarely did his girl ever diss on someone, yet as badly dressed as the Pylean was today, well, there was no holding back. 

Lorne, of course, was undeterred. "Just because you two can't seem to appreciate the intricacies of fashion as it is in showbiz, don't go raining on my parade." 

"It'd take a lot more than rain to drown out the pain I'm feelin' at lookin' at that, my man," Gunn said and shivered. He started glancing through some of the other files as Fred and Lorne made idle chit chat. Let them have their peace, Gunn was still reeling from the prospects of working alongside Denzel. _Denzel, _he thought and grinned. Not only did the actor know of AI, but asking for their express written assistance, personally no less. Okay, so it wasn't addressed to one Charles Gunn but did it matter? He'd make sure to be on the case and no way was Angel gonna get in the way of that. 

So enthralled by the thought of meeting his favorite actor, he never heard the door open or Lorne's warning when he started humming. The last thing Charles Gunn felt in this world was a sharp pain that exploded through his body. He heard Fred scream and turned towards her as everything fell away. His last thoughts before darkness claimed him was if she would have looked that way if he ever threw her a surprise party…

__

Sunnydale

11:12 pm

They spoke in hushed voices in the kitchen, every so often sneaking glances toward the silence of the living room where the former cheerleader tried to console the brunette vampire. Buffy had talked to Kate after Cordelia had dropped the phone. Gunn and Lorne had been found in the Hyperion, torn apart, and Wesley's bloodied and broken body had been found on the street, thrown from the window of his apartment. Fred's body--the waif of a girl that Angel had rescued from a demon dimension not two years ago--had yet to be found. The detective had sworn she would get back with them as soon as she could, and offered her condolences before hanging up. 

Buffy's eyes swept around the room, taking in the shape of its occupants. Xander and Faith leaned against the sink, the young man's arms wrapped around his slayer. Jay and Dawn sat next to one another, their fingers interlaced in sisterly comfort. Giles had stayed at his apartment, exhausting his resources to find those responsible for this. He'd tried to ask Angel if they had crossed any powerful demons recently and the vampire had responded by simply handing the phone off to Cordelia. Buffy herself sat on the island with the platinum blonde vampire leaning against the wall opposite her. He hadn't looked at her since they'd entered the kitchen but she felt his eyes on her when her attention was elsewhere. She'd wanted to call him on it but doing so seemed so selfish and the Slayer held her tongue. 

"Who could've done this?" Dawn asked, breaking the silence. "I mean, I know demons but why--well, aside from just doing it." 

"I wish I knew, Dawnster," Xander said and visibly tightened his hold on Faith. "And as much as I'd like to think it's a random hit, something's telling me it's not." 

Everyone nodded their assent but Buffy was the only one to voice the concern. "Do you think it has something to do with what's coming?" 

"No doubt about it, pet," Spike replied, his voice eerily calm. "My money's on the wankers Shadow and the whelp here saved you from a fortnight ago."

"But why?" she asked and for the first time in hours, his cerulean eyes dug into hers. 

"Don't rightly know, but I'd wager at them thinning the herd a bit, increasin their odds when it comes down to the rhubarb. Reckon we should warn Red and Glinda, too." 

Buffy's eyes widened and she felt guilty for not thinking of her friends sooner. She hopped off the island to retrieve the phone when bitter laughter cascaded through the hall. 

"Don't pretend like you care," Angel said, his baritone voice drawing everyone's attention to the door. 

"Angel," Cordelia said and grabbed him by the elbow. The vampire shook her off and took two more steps toward Spike. The younger vamp frowned, unsure where the hostility was coming from. In fact, his expression was similar to her own and Buffy tried to slide in between the two. 

"What are you goin on about, mate?" Spike asked and cocked his head to the side. 

Angel's glare burned everyone in the room, the contentious sneer accompanying it had everyone but Faith turning away. 

"Angel, what's going on?" The brunette glanced at Cordelia. "You didn't by chance give him a quick happy, did you?" The seer rolled her eyes and moved fully into the kitchen. She looked up at the vampire with a sympathetic question hanging from her lips. 

"Angel, don't do this," she pled. "Spike's trying to help here." 

He glanced down at Cordelia with enough disdain to cause her to stumble backwards and in that moment Buffy thought that Angelus had indeed returned. 

"Help? _Spike _trying to help? Since when has he done anything that doesn't benefit himself? Are we all forgetting about the vampire bitch he let bite him." 

"But he's sorry for it," Jay said and stood. Buffy saw that only Dawn's grip on her hand had prevented the young woman from attacking the vampire. Her cerulean green jewels pulsed with anger and, for one instant, Buffy thought she saw the amber tint of vampire eyes. She dismissed it quickly, blaming it on the angle the light hit her daughter's eyes. 

"Do you really believe that?" Angel snorted and stepped forward, crowding Spike's personal space. "Do you really believe that he's sorry for letting that vamp suck him off and feed from him?" Brown eyes turned to Spike. "He's just sorry he got caught." 

"That's not true!" Jay yelled and tears leaked from her eyes. "He didn't mean for it to happen, he didn't." 

Angel tsked and Buffy cringed at the condescension in the gesture. "Do you really believe that? If so, you're as naïve as your mother is on that." 

"Ho, now, Peaches," Spike said and Buffy saw the anger bubbling to the surface. "No need to go lambastin everyone else over your grief." 

"Spike," Buffy said but Angel silenced her with a growl directed at the bleached blonde. 

"Don't you talk to me about grief, _boy. _You know nothing about it. All you know about is throwing fits when you don't get what you want. Crying because Dru found better things to do than to be shackled around the neck by a sniveling, whiny nothing like yourself. Even in her insanity, you weren't good enough for her. What makes you think you're good enough for Buffy?" Spike blanched and before anyone could intercede, the brunette's venomous tongue struck again. 

"You know you're not deserving of her but you try to play the part, don't you. Try to fit in, try to show false concern when you could give two shits about Willow and Tara." When Spike lowered his head, Angel sighed. "You're sad, William, a sad and pathetic _git _whose mother should have dashed his brains out while he was a babe…" 

The punch came before anyone could react and by the time Buffy knew what was going on, all hell had broken loose. 

Spike tried to defend himself from the verbal onslaught of his elder, but failed. He tried to brush off Angel's surgical strikes with indifference or anger but nothing worked. Just as the talk in the crypt had demonstrated, no one was as deft at hurting others with words as Angelus. Each word he spoke sapped more of Spike's strength away until his will to fight had trickled next to nothing. 

Until…

"You're sad, William, a sad and pathetic git whose mother should have dashed his brains out while he was a babe…" 

A rage like no other burst from the dam of his soulless core and Spike's fist slammed into Angel's face almost of its own accord. The impact knocked the larger vampire over the island and into the cabinets. Before anyone else could react, Spike hopped over the divider, landing two punches to the downed vampire before a large hand clamped around his throat. 

Angel rose swiftly, though his was still unsteady from the assault. Spike clawed at the iron muscles that squeezed at his neck, tearing flesh through the leather of Angel's jacket but the other vampire's grip never lessened. 

"You always hit like a woman, Willie," Angel taunted. Spike refused to submit, ignoring the shouts that reverberated from the room. Before anyone could break them apart, Spike struck again. 

His left hand gripped Angel's wrist and he slammed his forearm into the brunette's elbow with all his strength. When the hold gave, he smashed the back of his fist into Angel's cheek. The vampire stumbled but when Spike tried to follow up with a right cross, Angel ducked and squeezed him around the waist. He lifted Spike off the ground and rammed the two of them with all of his might into the closest object, which just so happened to be the backdoor. 

Metal and wood splintered as the two supernatural beings tumbled onto the back porch. Spike roared in pain when slivers of the door speared him through the arms and back. Angel had not gone unscathed either, and Spike winced at the giant shard of glass that had pierced the former's cheek. Sympathy was short-lived, however, and Spike's heel slammed against Angel's jaw, driving the shard deeper into his flesh. The elder vampire roared and tackled Spike and the two spilled down the steps. They rolled halfway across the yard before Spike found himself pinned underneath the hulking form of his Grandsire. 

"Familiar position, William?" Angel sneered and his fist connected with Spike's face. "Losers always end up on the bottom, don't they?" Spike intercepted the next blow and before Angel could pull his fist back, the younger vampire bit into his arm. 

"Arrrgggh!" Angel yelled and tried to shake Spike's hold on him but the blonde refused to let go. His free hand clawed at Spike's face but the other vampire broke his hold only when the pleading voices of his love and daughter broke through his senses. He reluctantly let go and Angel was yanked off of him while someone dragged Spike to his feet. 

"What the hell was that about?" the petite, blonde whirlwind that was Buffy demanded, her emerald eyes shining with anger and unshed tears, glaring from him to Angel and back again. 

"It's about this soulless demon, this liar trying to wedge his way into your lives," Angel spat. 

"But you said…" 

"I was wrong, Buffy. I thought Spike changed and I ignored my better judgment. Tonight was just a reminder." 

"Not Spike's biggest fan here," Xander said, tentatively releasing his hold on Angel. Spike noticed that Faith, however, did not. "But since when has expressing concern for someone else been a crime?" 

"It's not, if you mean it." 

"If you think he doesn't care for Willow and Tara," Dawn said from where she stood next to Spike, "then it shows that you don't know him at all." 

"I know him better than any of you combined," Angel sneered. He ripped his arm from Faith's grasp and the other slayer took a step towards him before Buffy waved her off. Angel stalked towards Spike and the latter knew that words designed to hurt weren't too far in coming. 

"Tell them, Spike, tell them the truth. You don't care what happens to anyone besides yourself, do you? Except maybe your daughter. I'm not sure if you can even care for Buffy. Oh, sure, you want to possess her, want to own her, but do you really love her? No, don't answer that, I know you can't, cause you're a soulless demon." 

Spike snorted. "Come off the white horse, Peaches. That song and dance has been beaten to bloody death. Heard the soulless speech a thousand times from the Slayer, here, and ya know what? She's singin a whole different tune cause she knows I've changed. Even the whelp does." 

"That doesn't mean they're right, Willie my boy, does it? Aren't you the one that said demons didn't change?" And just like that, Spike understood. 

The anger drained from his shoulders and Spike gave Angel a consoling smile. "It's not your fault, Angel." 

There was no questioning the surprise that burst from Angel's face although he quickly masked it. "What are you talking about?" 

"Your mates…it's not your fault."   
Angel closed the distance between them and hoisted the smaller man up by the lapels of his duster. "Shut. Up." 

When Buffy tried to intervene, Spike halted her with the shake of his head. He returned his attention to the angry eyes of his Grandsire. Brown eyes that burned with rage and yet pled for something that Spike was sure he couldn't give Angel and for a reason he couldn't define, Spike wished he could. 

"It's not your fault that you weren't there, mate. You can't be everywhere at once." 

"What do you know about anything, Spike?" Angel spat but there was a shakiness to his voice that Spike doubted anyone else heard. "What do you know about people depending on you?" 

Without hesitation, blue eyes sought hazel and a heartfelt conversation passed between he and Buffy within seconds. Turning his gaze towards the vampire holding him up, Spike placed his hands on top of Angel's till he was lowered to the ground. They stood there, Angel's hands still holding him but the strength gone and Spike felt a calm settle over him. 

"I know what it's like, mate, to fail someone who's depending on you and have them pay the ultimate price for you cock-up. The difference between us is that I was there when it happened, like I should've been. I just didn't get the job done…I know what you're feelin…" 

"You don't know anything," Angel said, dropping his hands. There was no conviction in his voice and his brown eyes glistened in the moonlight. 

"Keep tellin yourself that, mate, won't matter 'cause you know I'm right. You can't save the world and everyone in it by yourself, Angel," Spike said and glanced at Buffy. "When things go to hell and people die, you can't blame yourself. Guilt does nothing but eat at you and cripple you when you're needed again." Angel started to speak but Spike held his hands up. "I know, I don't have a soul, thus, accordin' to some, I can't get bit by the guilt bug. Bollocks! I may not feel guilty for everything I do or say, but that doesn't mean I don't feel it. It's like teeth in here--" he pounded a fist on his chest, "--and it feels as if your whole body's on fire and nothin' can release you from the pain. And the thing is, you think you deserve to feel like that and maybe sometimes you do. But this ain't one of those times, Peaches. 

" 'm not gonna lie. I don't feel like the Scoobs here about your mates. Just the way 'm built, I can't help that. But I know if it was Red and her bird…" he shook his head. "The point is, Angel, is that you can't be everywhere, can't blame yourself that this world has teeth that you can't always defend those you love against 'em. You do what you can, when you can as best you can, mate. That's all you can ask yourself without driving yourself bonkers."

"They were my friends," Angel whispered and Cordelia slid her arm around the brunette's waist. "I brought them into this." 

Spike shook his head. "They knew what the risks were, mate. They died fighting the good fight. Remember that." 

The blonde's attention fell from Angel to the woman that held his heart. Tears streaked down her face and Spike cupped her cheeks in his hands. "I understand now, luv. When you said it wasn't my fault. Just took awhile to sink in." She tried to speak but he hushed her with a gentle kiss on her lips. "I'm about to shove off for the night, no, don't ask why. Got some things to do, things to set right. I'll be back tomorrow, luv." Before she could respond, Spike turned from the others. He ignored the pain that radiated from his body and the burning desire to run back and envelop Buffy in his arms. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't, because after two weeks of waiting, of dreading, his time was up. 

She was calling him home.

*****

__

Sunnydale

Two hours earlier. 

Not even during her five-year isolation on Pylea had Fred ever been this afraid. There she was a nothing, a no one--a cow used for menial labor. The gazes of the Pyleans contained nothing but disdain for her and the other humans that had been the unfortunate victims of circumstance (or jealous, evil professors) They were beaten, sometimes killed, for what the Pyleans saw as laziness or glancing the wrong way at their masters. She'd even seen brief bouts of torture (it never lasted long since Pyleans were, for all intents and purposes, immortal beings and death only visited them when their bodies were dismembered). For some reason, they never got it through their horned heads that humans couldn't take the same punishment. Still, that was the worst of it. Aside from the tortures and beatings, there had been no violations of the "cows". She never worried about defilement at the hands of her captures. 

But the look in the faces of the two demons that crouched in front of her like vultures whispered of breaches of her virtue she'd only seen in movies. They leered at her, even the one who had no eyes, ripping her clothes from her without so much as a single touch. She covered up in a ball but there was nothing to shield her from the rancid lust that poured from the two creatures. 

"She is so small, my brother," the one with no eyes said, and his forked tongue licked the blood that still stained his lips. Blood from her friends, blood from the man she loved. 

"Oh, God," she murmured, feeling the bile churning in her gut. Charles. He'd had no chance. Lorne had sensed what was to happen but it had been too late, the axe had been buried in her boyfriend's back before he had a chance to defend himself. He had fallen to his knees, eyes locked on her before the demon that had eyes nearly severed his head with a single bite from the smaller demon's mouth. She'd stared in shock as his lifeless body fell to the floor, unable to move even when Lorne roared for her to run. Lorne, they had toyed with him, obviously knowing what he was. Sword and some sort of firearm had slowly tore him apart. The demon whose right hand beheld a cannon had lapped at the dead Pylean's blood as she watched. That's when her stomach had rebelled and her brain finally, albeit too late not to witness the horrors, shut down. She'd only awakened when she was tossed to the floor not five minutes ago. She had no idea where she was or why she was alive. The only thing she did know is that once the two monsters before her were through with her, she would beg for death. 

"God, won't help you, girlie," the eyeless demon said and caressed her with a talon. She whimpered when it cut into the flesh of her jaw and pushed into the wall, hoping that it would engulf her frail body. 

"No he won't," said the one that had finally ended Lorne's existence, "he's still in the future." Both laughed at what was obviously an in-joke and Fred curled further into herself. 

"None of that, lovely," the eyeless one said. It smacked her and she screamed, holding her arms tightly across her chest. 

"She thinks those spindly things will keep us from the goods," the one with eyes said. "Nothing's gonna keep us from your wares, baby…" 

"Except me." Both demons turned towards the voice and Fred ventured a glance at the new visitor. It was the third assailant, the one who had hurled the axe into Gunn's back. She was still dressed in black but the heavy coat she had worn had been discarded. Black leather pants and a top that barely contained her ample breasts was her only clothing. Her bare feet made no noise as she sauntered across the marble floor towards the corner. 

"Come now, Morrigann," Eyeless said, "you wouldn't deny us this, would you?" 

"Oh, I would, M'ul At," she said and Fred nearly forgot the fear that slithered through her veins. The woman's voice was like a splendid breeze and Fred's muscles relaxed at the dulcet sound. The two demons stood and Fred was barely aware of them anymore as this beautiful creature stood before her, eyes surveying Fred's cowering form. 

"She is beautiful," the woman said. "In a plain, human sort of way." 

"Much like the slayer," the one not named M'ul At said. 

Morrigann shook her head and her multicolored locks, woven in tiny braids, whipped through the air. "There is nothing plain about the slayer. This one does not interest me…but the slayer…If she wasn't the slayer, I'd have a tumble in the sack with her."

Only on the third repetition did Fred catch the word. Slayer, she thought, and allowed a single tear of hope to dot the corner of her eye. Did they mean Buffy? Had they brought her to Sunnydale? Were they going to tell Buffy about her? 

"This one," the woman said, interrupting Fred's thoughts, "will be bait." 

"For the slayer?" 

Morrigann shook her head and the smile that graced her lips had Fred more afraid than the two demons ever could. "No. For someone much more special." 

The yet to be identified demon spat on the ground and gave the woman a contemptuous glare. "You still fawn over that parasite? A vampire who follows the slayer around like a dog!" 

"That is true, D'bahn, but soon that parasite will break apart our enemy more than myself or even Gabriel ever could." 

D'bahn scoffed. "And how would that be, Morrigann?" 

Irritation rippled across the other woman's features and she rolled her eyes. It was nearly enough to draw a hoarse chuckle from Fred. "Do not worry about the details, simpleton. Just know that William the Bloody will be at my side and he will be the one to kill the slayer and we shall rut in her blood." 

M'ul At yawned. "Sounds a bit melodramatic to me." 

"Well, if you could see what I have in store…" she said and smiled hideously. "Where are my manors? You can't see, M'ul At, can you?" The demon growled but did nothing. "Anyway, enough of this." Morrigann turned her back and Fred moaned at being left alone. She watched the woman walk towards the other room, stopping at the door's threshold. 

"I will be out for a few. There are…things that I must attend to." She nodded towards Fred. "Do with her as you will, just leave her alive and in tact…more or less." 

Fred couldn't control the sobs that ripped through her, or the frantic scream when their hands were upon her. She heard a door close in the distance but her mind could not shield itself from the probing hands that tore at her clothes, or the claws that sliced into her flesh. She tried to turn from her attackers and was slammed into the wall with enough force to knock the wind from her lungs. 

She ignored the taunts whispered in her and the coarse palms that scratched her flesh. There was no doubt in her mind what was about to happen and she was powerless to stop it. She tried to retreat into herself, focusing on the equations that were always near the forefront of her mind. So close to feeling nothing, science had saved in so many ways and it would again come to her rescue and blank out the memory of what was about to happen.

She jumped when a sound echoed in the background just as the demon's hands gripped her hips and pulled Fred against its hard body. She'd be so close to being absolved of what was going on around her and the momentary lapse was enough to bring her present situation to light. It was too late. There was nothing she could do now…

Just as her mind accepted her impending doom, the body that pressed her into the wall was gone and Fred slid bonelessly to the floor. The distinctive sound of flesh on bone reverberated through the room and seconds later D'bahn's head crash through the wall. He didn't move. 

Feeling the weight of unconsciousness pushing her down, Fred risked a glance over to where she thought her would-be savior stood. But she couldn't see anything but the brilliant shine of the overhead light glistening from the pure white of sword and its master. 

"You are unharmed?" the figure asked, its voice a thunderclap in the silence. Fred opened her mouth to answer, but the only words she could spit forth were "thank you". And even the luminescence of her savior, her Angel of Mercy, was not enough to stave off the darkness as it consumed her. 

__

****

TBC in _Gambit…_


	37. Gambit

Severed Ties 

****

Chapter 36

__

Gambit

He'd been walking for what seemed like hours, stalking the cemeteries with the predatorial grace honed by thirteen decades of existence. But even with amber eyes that saw everything, ears that picked up the slightest muffled whimper dozens of yards away and a nose that detected the heady scent of fear a hundred yards away, Spike had found nothing. Not a demon, not a vampire. Sunnydale, for all intents and purposes, was dead. 

"Just when a bit of violence would take the edge off," he whispered and lit his tenth--and final--cigarette since he'd left the Summers residence. Fat load o' did it's done for me, he thought and angrily flicked the newly lit fag out into the street. Nicotine wasn't going to be the answer, just as his desire for a scrap fell on deaf ears. He'd been avoiding this since the night in the alley but Spike understood that he was putting off the inevitable. 

Hands thrust deep into his pockets of his duster and head down, the bleached blonde stalked through the gates of Restfield. As he crossed over the threshold and started the trek towards the abandoned crypt that had been his home for the better part of two years, forgotten was his need to satiate the bloodlust coursing through him. Forgotten was the pain of seeing his daughter in shambles the night before or the guilt that clawed at him for what he'd done to her. What he did remember, however, was the love and respect he'd gained from the others. Love from Buffy, Jay and Dawn, respect from the others. He needed that support now as he prepared to face something that he could not physically fight; he fought his blood's demands for the past week without anyone realizing his struggle and he would rectify it without anyone finding out. He had to if he didn't want to let them down.

Just don't be yourself, mate, he thought and cast his eyes to the familiar door of his crypt. 

Closing his eyes, the vampire reached out with his senses. He cocked his head to the side, listening for something--anything--that would alert him to her presence. He remained still for several minutes, but nothing drew his attention. Taking one last look around him, Spike raised himself up and, in tribute to his slayer, kicked the door open.

The sound of the wood slamming into the concrete reverberated through the crypt and even before stepping into the chamber, Spike knew he was not alone. Candles lined the walls and floor, their flames licking at the darkness, painting the inner chamber with an eerie stroke of shadow and light. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the atmosphere his gaze fell to the voluptuous figure seated on the sarcophagus. 

Candlelight reflected off her crossed legs and Spike couldn't hide the lust that coated his vision at the thin veil of material that clung to her breasts. Her face was partially shielded by her braided mane of hair but the knowing smile that graced her lips was unmistakable. 

"Hello, William," Morrigann whispered and slid a finger along her thigh. "Miss me?" 

*****

It didn't take long for him to find a room. As much as he didn't want to move her, the demon twins wouldn't be out long and if he was there when they awakened, someone would have died and it wouldn't have been him. And despite his desire to see D'bahn and M'ul At suffer for their violations on the humans they had brought back over the past few weeks, Frost was not stupid. Gabriel's arrival was not far off and the Vampire Lord would be thoroughly displeased if two of his greatest lieutenants were gutted by their ally. Leaving the scene was the only option.

He had wasted no time in wrapping the slight woman in his white cowl and hustling out into the night. Land's End Motel was half a dozen blocks from the lair and though it was somewhat close, Frost's natural pheromones cloaked he and the young woman's trail. He chose a room out of the way and twisted the knob off. The door swung open and he slid inside. He pulled the covers back and slid her underneath them. Pulling the single chair up to the bed, Frost sat in silence, watching, thinking. 

There was nothing overly spectacular about her. True, she was beautiful but not in a striking manner. Her body, though lithe and tone, bore not the suppleness of a Morrigann or even the petite Slayer. But there was something about her, something he couldn't quite place that drew him to her. When he had walked in as M'ul At ripped her clothing off and fear drifted off her in waves, Frost's first instincts had been to tear the brothers apart. He'd immediately pulled _Airendale _from her sheathe and she'd muted his desire for blood, as she often did and he'd used the pommel to bash the sightless demon in the back of the head with before pulling the other away from her before slamming his face through the wall. Forcing his eyes to the naked woman had nearly driven him into a blind rage but when she stared into him and mouthed a 'thank you', his anger melted and his concern had shifted to her. 

He tried to rationalize his actions. Although he was a demon and loved the violence his world presented, rape was not something he'd ever participated in. It was a deplorable act, without honor and that had been the reason his respect for Seth waned every passing day. A warrior such as the slayer abused by her captor had angered Frost enough to challenge Seth to a duel, a battle that the former had no chance of winning. And where his respect would have normally been elevated by an opponent defeating him, Frost still detested the other. True, Seth had beaten the slayer, but that did not give him pause to violate her at every turn. Death at the hands of an enemy was a respectable outcome but to be denigrated at your captor's expense…

A low moan caught his attention and Frost stared into the soft features of the young woman. Her head lolled towards him and her eyes fluttered for several seconds before opening. She blinked several times and finally focused on him. A faint smile tickled her lips and Frost found himself smiling back. He thought she was about to say something but then a shadow past over her eyes and the bright sheen of tears made itself known. 

"Do not worry," he said and brushed a bang out of her face. She flinched but just barely. "You are safe." 

"Where…where am I?" 

"Sunnydale." 

"But how did I…oh God, Charles." The tears that had been held in check burst through and he watched as her sobs cut through the otherwise silent room. He wanted to comfort her but anything he said would be trite. His desire to meditate had been the only thing that had kept him from Los Angeles. If it weren't for that, he may have been the one to slay her friends and they wouldn't be here. For once in a long time, Frost was thankful to have been left out of the fight. 

He didn't know how much time passed but her cries subsided to muffled whimpers and this time Frost did put a hand on her shoulder, making sure to keep the covers between her flesh and his hand. She responded by staring up at him, her eyes, fearful yet almost trusting. 

"Who are you?" she asked and her voice cracked, hoarse from her emotional outburst. 

"I am…" he took pause. What should he tell her? That he will be death to those she knows here? That he saved her from violation when, in the end, she will most likely die anyway? "…a friend," he settled on. 

"How did…how did you find me?" 

Frost bit his lip. He wasn't used to lying or obfuscation. He'd always lived by the truth and being straightforward. But this woman couldn't take the truth, especially in her condition. She needed something—some_one_—to trust, to believe in. Until he figured out what to do (and soon) he was her lifeline. 

"I was following them…" 

"The ones that did this…" she motioned towards her nude body underneath the covers (did she even realize she was clothed by a simple cowl?)…"The ones that killed my friend and my…"

"Yes," he answered quickly, before she could dissolve into tears. 

"Why…why did they do this? Why did they…" 

Frost held his hand up and she calmed. "It is not about you, but about what is to come." 

"Does it have anything to do with Angel?" 

"The Slayer's previous vampire consort?" She nodded. "I am afraid it is. A ploy to confuse and widdle down the ranks of ou…of their enemy." 

"How do you know all of this?" 

"Because, I make sure to know." 

"Are…are you a demon fighter?" 

Frost chuckled. "Among other things." 

The woman lowered her head and Frost saw her mind taking the information in. For an obvious noncombatant, Frost thought, she was taking things well. He knew that the shock had yet to filter from her veins but still, he'd expected a more hysterical reaction. He couldn't help but feel a swell of pride for this young woman, so strong of spirit.

"Does Buffy know? About this…about you?" 

"She knows about…the players in this game, but she does not know about you. It is something that I need to rectify soon." 

He saw the fear return in her eyes and he stayed the urge to hold her. "Are you going to leave me?" 

"I have to, in order to contact the slayer." 

"But what if…" 

Frost smiled gently. "They will not find you."

"How…how do you know." 

"Because you were with me, and I cannot be tracked." He saw the uncertainty written in her features and though he wanted to stay with her, Frost knew he had to leave. 

Kneeling beside the bed, the cold warrior pulled his sword from its sheathe. He coaxed the woman's hands from under the sheets and placed the hilt in her palms. 

"_Airendale, _my weapon," he said as her small hands wrapped around the pommel. "She shall protect you." 

"But it's too…" her words trailed off when she lifted the giant blade as if it were paper. Frost chuckled at her wide-eyed expression and stood up. 

"This is no sword of metal, but one of magic and will. And, per my will, I have passed ownership to you." He walked towards the door when the woman called him. 

"I…I'm Fred," she murmured. Frost bowed and when he lifted his head, chilly eyes met the warmth of this woman--Fred--and the eternal warrior felt something burn inside of him that he thought gone for centuries. 

"Frost," he whispered and walked out the door, confused by what it was Fred had started within him. When the cool night air hit him, he realized that nearly two hours had passed since he'd brought Fred to the motel. His thoughts coagulated into a uniform point, focusing on what he had to do. 

He couldn't face the Slayer; regardless of his words, from what he'd studied of her, fists would be her answer and Frost didn't want that. Not yet. In truth, he had only one choice and while others couldn't track him, Frost could track anyone and anything. 

Even someone he hadn't seen in two weeks. 

*****

"It's been over an hour," Buffy said as she paced the living room floor. "He should've been back now." 

"Come on, Buffy," Dawn said and risked a soft pat on her sister's arm. "You know how Spike is. When he needs to work off some steam, he can be gone for hours at a time." 

Xander stood, squeezing Faith's hand before he did so. "Dawnster's right, Buff. Spike's more of a grab and smash kinda guy. He has something on his mind, a good old fashion pummeling usually clears that bleached poisoned brain of his right up." On Buffy's murderous scowl, Xander backpedaled. "Just a lil joke, Buffy." 

"Well, it's not funny," she growled and started her pacing anew. After the pissing contest between her lover and ex and Spike's departure into the unknown, Cordelia had taken Angel back to their hotel room. And despite Buffy's reservations about separating the group, Cordelia had made a few good points. First, Angel--and Buffy herself--had needed time to cool off and second, decentralizing their forces was ideal in case of a surprise attack. That line of thinking had Buffy advising Willow and Tara to go straight to Giles's apartment instead of Revello when they arrived back in Sunnydale. They'd also decided in the hasty twenty-minute meeting to make sure everyone--including Buffy--always had a partner wherever they went. If these new enemies had the foresight to take out the Angel Investigations crew, they weren't relying on just brute force. 

"Mum." Jay's voice drew Buffy out of her haze and the Slayer looked at her daughter. So much like her with a touch of Spike thrown in, Jay offered Buffy a reassuring smile and, with that as the only provocation, the young blonde embraced Jay, holding the other woman tightly. "It's gonna be okay," she whispered in Buffy's ear and the latter allowed the tears to fall, albeit silently. Jay pulled Buffy even tighter against her, their petite frames meshing, leaving little space between them and the longer she held Jay, the more Buffy felt her own strength and resolve chipping away at the anxiety of Spike being out alone. 

Reluctantly pulling away, Buffy stared into the blue-green eyes of her daughter and smiled. "You're right, baby," she said. "It will be." Turning towards the remainder of the Scoobies, Buffy spoke. 

"Everybody, Jay and I are going to bring Spike back--Xander, I know, it's risky but that's why I'm taking my girl here. As tough as he is, if Spike runs into TweedleDee and TweedleDumb out there alone he…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "We have to get him back here." 

"B's right," Faith said, speaking up for the first time. "As tough as that stud muffin of hers is, taking on those two ugly sons of bitches won't work out for him." Faith walked over to the two women, laying her hand on either of their shoulders and smiled. "Go get your man, girls." 

Forty-five minutes of trailing false scents and places he had been, the two slayers had ended up at Restfield. Somehow, the Slayer already knew this would be where they'd find him but had let Jay use her vampiric instincts to track Spike. When they passed through the gates, she couldn't shake the déjà vu that crept into her heart. She glanced over at Jay, who was scanning the area for signs of Spike. As they traversed the cemetery, something whispered to Buffy that she needed to be alone. 

"Jay," Buffy whispered. "Why don't you take that quad." 

"But Mum, we shouldn't be separated." 

Buffy smiled, hoping that she didn't betray the torrent of emotions welling inside of her. "It'll be fine, as long as we keep each other in sight." The reluctance in Jay's eyes was clear but the young woman nodded and, pulling a dagger from her belt, jogged off into the opposite direction. 

She watched Jay for a few seconds before making her way towards the place she knew Spike would be. There was no hiding from the fear curdling inside her but she wouldn't let that stop her. 

It was time to face her future. 

*****

CJ stared at the clock, squinting his eyes at the green numbers as if by concentration alone he could make the night pass more quickly. As it stood, _3:25 _was the hour of the day and until the sun shone overhead in the clear sky, he'd stay where he was on the couch, nowhere near the comfort of his own bed.

The nightmares had started while he'd been under anesthesia and for three days afterwards. The images of a life he'd never lived, of atrocities he'd never committed had driven him to the point of insomnia. He'd yet to tell anyone; not his aunt, not Dawn. How could he? What could he say? No way could he tell her the truth, she'd have nothing to do with him afterwards. As it was, he could barely stomach looking in the mirror, for while the face wasn't the same, the eyes reflected the flecks of cruelty that had plagued him whenever he retreated into the world of dreams. 

"Get over it, Jansen," he said and pushed off from the couch. He walked over to the window, flexing his arm. His breaks had healed for the most part but there were times where the injuries still bothered him. The doctors were amazed at his recovery but had made no further inquiries into the circumstances behind it. Typical Sunnydale, he thought. Dawn had told him enough about the town's residents to know that they weren't too keen on probing cases with supernatural ties. 

"Dawn." Even the murmur of her name in the darkness was enough to lift his spirits. Cliched as it may have been, she was his light in the gloom his life was fast becoming. When he'd felt consumed by the bloodshed he could not un-see, thoughts of her gave him respite from his growing fear of becoming the thing in his dreams. 

A shiver up his back broke CJ from his wandering thoughts. Another sign of the change, whatever that was. The tingle at the base of his spine continued throughout his limbs and CJ closed his eyes. The tremors had been a sporadic side effect of from the events two weeks prior, though they only occurred at night. 

_Just like the visions, _he thought. _The Big Bad images like creeping in the dark. _He chuckled. Though he'd always been the night owl, catching rest for three or four hours in daylight only had never been part of his routine. As it was, he knew that was the only way to fight whatever it was that warred with his mind in…

A faint rustle on the porch caught the young man's attention and all worries were temporarily forgotten. Instincts honed through years of combat in the streets and abilities not his own took over and CJ crept to the door. He pulled the dagger hidden in the umbrella rack, holding in a reverse grip as his other hand turned the knob. He was slow and even with their enhanced abilities, a vampire would never be ready for the attack. 

But before he pulled the door open, CJ found himself on the porch, sprawled on his back with an iron hand wrapped around his neck. Stars danced in his vision from where the back of his head had kissed the concrete and when he finally glanced up at his attacker, the young man thought he was hallucinating. But when the figure did not dissipate nor release his grip, CJ knew this was no illusion.

"Do not try to move," the man in white whispered and tightened his grip around CJ's neck. "Listen and listen well, young warrior. I have information that I believe shall prove useful…and welcome." 

TBC in **_The Agony and The Ecstasy_**…


	38. The Agony & the Ecstasy

Severed Ties 

****

Chapter 37

__

The Agony & the Ecstasy

In his hundred plus years of existence, Spike had often heard the cliché of time standing still; that an event was so moving that any cognizant thought of temporal passage was rendered null and void. And as much bravado as the Cockney held, he'd experienced that feeling several times in his existence, the most recent occurrences directly or indirectly caused by his Slayer: the first time he saw her fight outside the Bronze. When she kissed him after saving him from Glory; staring at her broken body as the sun peaked over the horizon, every time he sunk into her core and every time she looked at him with all the love in his heart. There would be other moments, too, for when his daughter was born in a future that had yet to occur, Spike knew with a certainty that bordered in the prophetic that not even Buffy's love would compare to the joy of holding Faith Joyce Summers for the very first time. 

If only they were here now. 

The vampire in front of him jumped off the sarcophagus and sauntered towards the dazed blonde. The painful erection was beyond his control and the closer she came, the more his lust grew. Her hips swayed hypnotically and her breasts jingled. Spike licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to devour her. She was more than sex; she was everything erotic, everything carnal and Spike knew that if he didn't have her soon he'd burn from the inside out. 

When her delicate fingers raked down his chest, Spike hissed. Morrigann laughed and the sound left him weak. It was like nothing else he'd ever heard. He stood motionless as her hands roamed the plains of his chest, grimacing with need when she cupped the bulge between his legs. 

"Looks like somebody missed me. Isn't that right, William?" She squeezed enough for it to be uncomfortable to most men but Spike groaned in anticipation. "Oh, you do, don't you? I bet there's plenty of wicked thoughts in that little blonde head of yours." 

How joyful it would be to bash her into the concrete floor, he thought. Her assuredness tore at him and he wanted to wipe the smile from her lips. But a larger part of him wanted to take her against the sarcophagus. But his tongue refused to comply with either demand and he settled for "What are you doing here?" 

Morrigann laughed and circled him, her hand following a path along his thigh and across his lower back. "I could ask you the same question. Of course," she added and nipped at his earlobe. "I know why you're here." 

"What…what did you do to me?" 

She was facing him now and batted her eyes but there was no mistaking her to be innocent. "Why would I do something to you, William?" she asked and slid her nails down the side of his face, drawing blood. Temporarily knocked from his daze, Spike grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand from his face. 

"I am going to ask you again. What. Did. You. Do. To. Me?" He bit out through clenched teeth and squeezed her wrist with all his unnatural strength. He felt the bone give and Morrigann's face contorted--not in the pain that he'd hoped for--but in annoyance. Her eyes were no longer playful, however, and when he stared into them, he saw the cunning and malice hidden underneath her supple exterior. 

"Take your hand off me." Spike grunted but immediately complied. The alluring smile was back on her face but there was a coldness in her eyes that unnerved the bleached blonde. "That's better. So, William…" 

"Stop calling me that…" 

"Has it felt as long for you as it has for me?" 

Spike rolled his eyes. "Not bloody long enough if you ask me." 

Morrigann chuckled and ice slivered down his back. "Take off your coat." She turned her back, knowing that he would follow her orders and that confidence brassed him off more than anything, aside from his own capitulation. "You have surprised me, William. Two weeks and from what I can tell, you haven't had any sort of…gratification. Not your Slayer, not even a vamp whore…" 

Spike raised his eyebrow. "Like yourself?" 

Again that laugh that grated on his patience and sanity. "Oh, I am so much more than a whore, my sweet boy, as you will soon find out." 

"You wish." 

"As much as you try with the bravado, _Spike, _we both know that you want to fuck me silly. Am I right?" 

Though she voiced the question, there was no mistaking her certainty of Spike's answer. Regardless of what he told her, the truth of the matter was that she was right and all the grandstanding in the world wasn't going to change that. 

"Well," she said and Spike's mouth dropped open as she stood before him, the barest of negligee covering her more intimate parts but nothing else. How she had changed without his notice disturbed Spike but not as much as his nearly quivering desire to touch her. Even as Buffy's face swam through his consciousness, the pulsating body in front of him was all that was important. 

"Did you hear me?" Morrigann whispered and this time Spike didn't flinch when her hands roamed his body. "I asked if you know why you're here." 

Not trusting his voice, Spike shook his head. 

"Well, lover," she said and grabbed his hand, pulling him further into the crypt. "It's about time you found out." 

For the first time since arriving Spike realized that the door leading to the lower level was open. Candlelight flickered from the underground cavern and when Morrigann descended the ladder, Spike had no doubt about where she was leading him. Worse, he knew he'd follow and that, after tonight, he and Buffy were done. He hated himself for not being strong enough to reject the bitch's advancements and what this would do to Buffy. He cursed himself and this bitch the entire time she undressed him, refused her kisses as she laid him on the bed, but when she sunk onto him for the first time, all thoughts turned from his self-loathing to the undeniable pleasure her body gave him. 

"Fuck me," Morrigann purred and Spike felt her walls close around him. Her body trembled and she fell on his chest, though her lower body continued its ministrations. Only during this brief hiatus could he focus on anything outside of the two of them and when he did, traces of vanilla prickled his nostrils and he had the distinct feeling that he was being watched. 

"Ready for round two, lover?" Morrigann said and started more insistent undulations. Spike fell into rhythm and everything else fell away. 

Even the silent sobs that sounded in the shadows. 

*****

It had been almost an hour since they left and Dawn was becoming antsy. She glanced around the empty room; Xander and Faith were in the kitchen, 'guarding' the back door, leaving the front to her. She wanted to call someone, well, a certain someone but it was too late; CJ was probably sleeping. Or at least he should be, she thought and stared at the phone in her hand. 

"What's going on, baby?" she whispered to the empty room as her thoughts focused on the young man. Though the two of them had spent a few hours a day with one another since the incident with Jay, Dawn couldn't help but think that CJ was keeping something from her. He'd doze off in the middle of conversations and she was able to startle him without trying. The bags under his eyes hinted that he wasn't sleeping but whenever she asked him about it, not to mention the far away look he had anytime Jay's name was brought up. Whenever she asked him about it, he answered her with a kiss and she'd forget everything but his lips and the way his body felt under her fingertips…

"Get a grip, Dawn," she said and started to pace the room. There was too much going on for her to be lost in the wonderful world of fantasy and teenage hormones. So what her boyfriend's body was like a Michelangelo sculpture or that his kisses sent delicious shivers of need through her veins. So what that when he was with her, when he held her, she felt more complete than she had after the Enjoining. Or that she thought about taking their relationship to the next level and the accompanying visuals didn't make her gag. She was growing up and the prospect of it all was more than a little scary. Almost as scary as the upcoming war. 

Dawn rubbed her eyes; this was no everyday event. From what everyone was saying, what she _felt, _this was worse than anything they'd ever faced--even Glory. 

The dark-haired teen walked to the mirror in the hallway and rubbed her sleep-deprived eyes. Faith and Xander were still in the kitchen, comforting one another. Although Faith's laugh was strained, at least the slayer had someone there with her. If only CJ could be here and Dawn wouldn't feel so alone.

A sharp knock followed by the chime of the doorbell broke the teen's wandering thoughts. Before she could think, she rushed to the foyer, calling Xander's name on the way. Although her instincts told her that this was something positive for them, she still waited until Xander and Faith's footsteps sounded behind her. 

"Wait a minute, Dawnie," Xander said and drew a curved blade from somewhere behind him. "We don't know who it is." 

"Well," Faith said and grabbed the door handle. "Only one way to find out." Xander tried to stop her but the door was open before he could do anything. 

Dawn flinched when the door banged open but when her eyes fell onto the figure on the steps, her heart jumped and her first instinct was to rush into his arms. But when her attention feel to the second figure he held in his arms, she frowned.

"CJ," Dawn whispered. "What's going on?" 

The young man gave her a crooked smile and nodded towards the woman next to him. "Guys, meet Fred." When Xander started to say something, CJ waved his hand to silence the other man. "Just help me get her inside. I have a feeling you'll want to hear just what the hell's going on."

*****

Angel stared out the window, his mind lost to the whirring of emotions inside him. Cordelia had drifted off to sleep about an hour ago. She had held him for as long as she could, his rock, until the strain had been too much and the tears had broken through her stoic veneer. Her tears had been of things never said, a love for her friends never shared to the extent of what she felt for them. Regret for not making things right with Wes. She'd spilled it all, everything she was feeling…everything Angel couldn't say. Oh, he could say it, he had the ability but not the courage. Admitting aloud the loss would take something away from him. He would risk losing the edge he maintained as Champion. 

"Sounds like the coward's way out, if you ask me," the Cockney voice sounded in his head. "Of course, you were never what I'd call brave, Angelus." His first instinct was to deny the accusation but how could he? As much as he hated to admit it, Spike was right. Angelus had always been the 'selfish git', out for himself and himself only. How was what Angel did any different? Yeah, he may not have killed and tortured but he was that same selfish creature underneath it all. Distancing himself from others emotionally, kicking Spike when he was down, always feeling as if he knew best--it was the mark of someone that didn't want to get close, didn't want to accept what he was. 

He'd had the soul for a hundred years and never in that time had he felt like he belonged. Oh, he was never alone; the faces that visited him nearly every night assured that. But he was never close to anyone. Even when he and Buffy were together, he always kept his distance and this had been before he knew he could lose the soul. But why? Why did he keep the young girl so in love with him away from his heart? Why did he make sure his friends never got too close? Why did he resent Spike so much? So many possibilities but, in truth, the answer was simple: he was scared. 

Angel tried to rationalize it, tried to give himself an excuse, but he couldn't. He was afraid of opening up because he didn't know how. He knew the pain others went through when someone they loved hurt them. Even after all these years, the look in Buffy's eyes when he told her he was leaving haunted him, _warned _him, in fact, that getting close could only get you hurt. 

"You're right," he whispered to the night, "I am a bloody coward." 

"Do we really have to go over this again?" Angel jumped and turned to see Cordelia staring at him through tired, bloodshot eyes. 

"Cordy," he said and closed the distance between them. He kneeled beside the bed and brushed his fingers across her tear-stained face. "How are you feeling?"

She chuckled humorlessly. "Like I've been crying for the past two hours." She waved him off when he started to say something. "But it doesn't matter. What does is you're starting that bullshit again." 

"Cordy, you don't understand…" 

"No, Angel, _you _don't understand," she yelled. When he leaned away from her, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." 

"Well, then how did you mean it?" he asked, unable to conceal the bitterness clogging his throat. 

"Why do you do this to yourself, Angel?" She took his hands in hers. "Why do you always think the worst of yourself?"

Her eyes implored him for an answer and, when he couldn't find one Angel did what he did best. He turned away. 

"No," she said and grabbed his chin, "you look at me. You're always trying to run away, always trying to play the stoic hero who can't get to close and then end up blaming yourself when shit hits the fan. I already told you, baby, you're a good man. Just like everyone, you make mistakes, you get hurt. That shouldn't stop you from taking chances." 

They stared at each other for several minutes, words measured by inhalations and blinking eyelids. The longer he looked into her eyes, the more he wanted--no--_needed _her. Not just to hold, not just to kiss but to consume her, to fall into her and be lost in the sweet scent of her love…

Before he could think, Angel was upon her. His lips assaulted hers with a renewed vigor as his hands roamed the plains of her willing body. His shirt was gone within seconds and hers soon followed. He groaned at the warmth of her flesh against him and he didn't fight when her eager hands pried his pants from his hips. His senses returned only when the heat of her core thrummed against his erection. 

"Cordy," he started but she silenced him with a kiss. 

"It will be okay, baby, trust me." 

"But the soul…" 

She smiled and something arose inside of him and Angel knew that, somehow it would be all right. 

_Buzz…_

"What was that?" she whispered and the vampire shook his head. 

"Doesn't matter…" 

_Buzz…_

Cordelia groaned as Angel's hands slid along the inside of her thigh. "It's…it's the phone," she murmured. "It might be important." 

He was so close, so close to finding home within her only to be interrupted. If the circumstances were different, he would've ignored it, but she was right. There was too much going on to get lost in the pleasures of one another and forget the events playing out in front of them. 

Angel rolled over to the other side of the bed, disregarding the ache that the absence of her touch caused. He fumbled with the phone for several seconds before clicking it open. 

"Hello?" he said and glanced over at Cordelia. She giggled at his annoyance and her fingers slid up and down his arm. Her ministrations lasted only a few seconds before he forgot about her touch. He listened to the voice on the other end and his jaw dropped. 

"Angel?" Cordelia asked and scooted over to him. 

"Yeah," he said into the phone, "we'll be right there." Turning the phone off, the brunette pulled his woman into his arms and kissed her on the forehead before gathering his clothes. 

"What is it?" Cordelia asked and slid into her clothes as well. He didn't answer her for several minutes. Grabbing the keys from the nightstand, Angel glanced at Cordy, his eyes watery, and gave her a tremulous smile. 

"That was Faith. It's Fred…they found her." 

*****

She had no idea how long she stood there, watching. Every part of his body she'd memorized in the past year was traced with _her _fingertips. Buffy watched as his hands slid along _her_ thighs, how his lips closed over the nipple of _her_ ample breast. _She_ called his name over and over, spewing a litany of vulgar words that increased his tempo. The slapping of flesh muted the harsh sounds of breathing that echoed through the lower level. 

"Fuck me, baby, fuck me," the woman growled and sliced open Spike's chest with her nails. Buffy's stomach lurched when the woman's tongue lapped up the blood. God how she wanted to look away but her eyes refused to comply. She took in every detail; the way they moved as one, the transitions they made between positions, though _she _always finished on top. It was as if they were made for one another and that thought was enough to topple her shock. 

Buffy let out a choked sob, biting her fist to remain silent. The tears burned a path down her face and the Slayer fell into the corner, crying into the cool wall of the crypt. She was vaguely aware of the continued resonance of sex not ten feet from her. Spike's breathing had intensified, grunts accompanying each thrust. He was close. _She _beat him, however and Buffy tried to shut out the sounds of the other woman screaming his name. He wasn't far behind--his animalistic growl preceded the name of a woman by mere seconds. She didn't know how long she sat there, face buried in her hands, before she gathered the strength to stand. Her legs shook but she maintained her balance. In the distance, she thought she heard him call her name but refused to turn around. 

Buffy climbed the steps with mechanical torpor. Her heels clicked against the crypt floor and when she closed the door behind her, Buffy shivered. The ensuing click was like the final trumpet's call in a life she thought was going to be hers. 

"No more," she whispered to the night. The words she spoke held conviction but what her pledge was against, she wasn't even sure. But one thing she did know what that the future she'd seen herself having with Spike had shriveled into nothing. She was no longer concerned with the love and companionship he had provided her. She couldn't be. If she didn't move ahead immediately, she never would, the pain was that sharp.

"Mum!" Jay shouted and appeared in front of Buffy. The Slayer smiled at her daughter. "Are you okay? Did you find Daddy?" 

Buffy's smile faded but she drew her daughter in her arms. "Nothing's wrong, sweetie," she said. "Nothing at all." 

The two women disengaged from the embrace and Jay's eyes studied Buffy with an intensity held by only one other person. "What about Daddy?" 

"Yeah," Buffy said, "he's in there. But he's…resting now. We can come back later." 

They walked away from the crypt though Jay looked back several times before glancing at her mother. "Are you sure everything's okay with you guys?" 

"It's fine, baby," she replied. "Everything's just fine." Inside Buffy was screaming despite the effort to remain numb. Nothing was fine about it. And she doubted anything ever would be. 

TBC in **_After Shock_**


	39. After Shock

Severed Ties 

****

Chapter 38

__

After Shock

AN: Sorry for the lack of updates but I've been in serious traffic jam mode. And it's not gonna let up anytime soon, thus the weekly update is history. What I will do, however, is make sure to pump something quality out every 2 weeks. It will probably be only one chapter but, depending on my work and school load, sometimes it may be more than one. Who knows. Just know that I **will **finish this. You have my word on that…and now, let me drop you back into the bad…

Jay didn't need her mother's confirmation that something was seriously wrong. The aura of the extremely not cool was evident once they entered the cemetery and it thumped in her mind when Buffy had exited Spike's crypt. At one point she thought she noticed the moonlight shining off Buffy's eyes as if a torrent of tears were being held back but nothing in the other's voice had alerted Jay to the issue of the potentiality of waterworks. 

"I was thinking," Buffy said as they rounded the corner and onto Revello, "that me, you and Dawnie could have a Summers day tomorrow. We could go to the mall, catch a movie, do something relaxing before getting down to business tomorrow night." 

"Do you think that's something we can really do?" Jay asked. 

"I don't see why not. I'm not saying to throw caution to the wind the whole day but I think we do need a break, recharge our batteries, so to speak so we can be ready, lock, stock and barrel for when crap hits the fan." She paused. "And is there any other cliches I could possibly use to get my point across?" 

Jay smiled. "Personally, I was waiting for 'getting our ducks in a row' and 'not putting all our eggs in one basket'." 

The Slayer thumped her child on the ear. "Ha, ha. You're a bloody riot." Jay started to say something about Buffy's choice of words but the immediate pain in the latter's hazel eyes caused the young woman to stop in her tracks. 

"Mum?" When Buffy didn't respond, Jay grabbed her by the arm. Standing in front of her diminutive mother, Jay stared into her beautiful features. Her entire face was shaded in melancholy and Jay had no doubt who was at the center of Buffy's grief. Using her fingers to lift Buffy's chin up, Jay made eye contact with her mother. "What is it?" 

The Slayer opened her mouth to speak but stopped when something drew her attention down the street. Before Jay could ask, Buffy sprinted down the street towards her house with Jay not far behind. When her eyes fell on 1630, Jay saw what had garnered the other's attention. Angel's car was haphazardly parked on the curb. 

"What the hell?" She sprinted across the lawn and through the door a second or two after her mother, stopping just before she ran into Buffy's back. "What's wrong? What's going on?" she asked no one in particular. 

Like it had been for the past few weeks, the living room was nearly filled. Though Spike, Giles and the Wiccas were noticeably absent, everyone else was present. Xander and Faith stood against the wall, hands entwined while Dawn sat in the recliner with CJ acting as sentinel next to her. Jay shivered at his presence though he refused to look up at her. Shaking away her bubbling contempt, Jay focused on Cordelia and Angel sitting on the couch, an almost gaunt young woman between them. She was wrapped in a blanket and held a cup of coffee in her trembling hands. When the young woman looked into Jay's eyes, the slayer saw that the other woman had seen something a person should never see. 

"Guys," Cordelia said, her voice strained. "This is Fred." 

&&&

He refused to look at her even as her forked tongue slid along his cut skin. She sucked his blood from his body and her hand stimulated his still erect member. Part of him fell under the hypnotic rhythm of her tongue and hand, thankful for the attention she gave him. But another, even greater, part of him was sickened by what had just happened. He'd just let this woman take him into her every orifice, dine on his blood and he hers, for hours in the bed that he once shared with the Slayer…

Buffy. The sound of her name whispered in his mind caused Spike to wince, an action that caught the other woman's attention. 

"Did I fuck you speechless, dear?" she purred, sliding her silken thigh between his legs. "You know, if you want some more, all you need to do is ask." 

"Don't want anything from you…bitch," he muttered, hating himself for the lie. Oh, he wanted her all right. Wanted her in every way, shape and form. He wanted to thrust into her until she screamed as if he'd split her in two. He wanted to spend hours, no, days, inside of her, filling her with every ounce of his seed. He wanted to drain her and replenish her with his own blood. He wanted to claim her with a carnal necessity he'd never felt before. Even as his mind, clouded by her sex and blood, rebelled, with each touch of her flesh he succumbed more and more. His will was not his own and yet he still had a piece of himself that remained. And as long as that small portion lived, he would never willingly give himself to her mind, body and soul. 

"You will be mine," she whispered, challenging his unspoken vow. In a single breath, she was atop him, her walls accepting him into her inner sanctum. Spike gasped at the heat that radiated from this creature. His spirit broke a little more as his hands, of their own accord, grasped her hips, and chaperoned her slow grind. "I do not know why you fight it, Spike. Do you know the power that I possess? In four hundred years of existence, no one has ever been able to fight their desire for me once my fangs have tasted their flesh." She leaned close to him, her breath hot and velvety, like white roses. Her tongue darted out, tracing the inner shell of his ear and when her words came, they stabbed into his heart because he knew she spoke the truth. 

"I have made mean mutilate themselves, women give themselves over to demons to be defiled in ways no human could imagine. I've had mothers give their children to me and men torture their wives, all because of a single command from these lips." Though he couldn't see her face, he heard the smile tugging at her lips. "Oh the things I could make you do. All it would take from me is a breathy whisper and you would do anything; kill your friends, turn that dark-haired brat, the slayer's sister. Why, I'd wager you'd gut that precious little daughter of yours…" 

"No," he choked out. Her words were a drug and Spike knew that with each thrust of her hips, with each flip of her tongue, that he was closer and closer to falling from the narrow ledge that kept him from being completely under her control. Morrigann must have sensed the waning resistance and, with a cruel delicacy, she slid her fangs into his already pierced neck. As she swallowed his blood, her saliva mixing into the wounds, Spike felt the last embers of his defiance burning out. By the time she stopped, a single tear fell from his eye because in that moment, Spike knew. He was hers, utterly and completely. 

"But I won't ask you to do that," she said, never ceasing her motion. "What I want you to do is second nature to a creature such as yourself. After all, it _is _what you are famous for." 

Spike tried to fight, tried to bring forth the love he felt for Buffy and Jay and Dawn. He clawed at the vow that would come from his lips once she finished her request, attempting to vanquish speech from his mouth and thought from his mind. He wanted to immolate himself from the inside and, for one moment, thought that he could, the rage was so great. But in the end he could only listen as her request made its way into his ears. He nodded dumbly and Morrigann smiled as she crested over to her orgasm, her spasming muscles bringing him along. 

They lay in silence, Morrigann's violet eyes on him the entire time. "Now," she said, "that wasn't so hard, was it?" When he did not speak, she tut-tutted him and slapped him playfully across the jaw. "William, you are not being nice, you know. I asked you a question and I expect an answer. Let me ask again; that wasn't so hard, now was it?" 

"No." 

"See," she said and kissed his nose. "Told ya. So, are you going to do what I asked?" 

"Yes." 

"And when you do, are you going to enjoy it?" 

"…"

"William…" 

"Yes I am." 

"Excellent." She frowned slightly and Spike watched her beautiful face burn with a malice he'd only seen in the eyes of Angelus. "But I forgot what I asked of you," she said, her voice falsely cheerful. "Do you remember what I asked of you, Spike?" 

"Yes, Morrigann, I do." 

"And what was it?" 

"To kill the Slayer, Buffy Summers." 

She cocked her head to the side and ran slim fingers through his hair. "Is that all you're gonna do?" He shook his head. "Then what else?" 

"I'm gonna make it so no one will ever be able to identify the body." As the words left his mouth, Spike lost contact with everything else around him. He didn't hear Morrigann's Drusilla-like cry of excitement or her adorations of her new man. He could only hear the promise of what he would do to his Buffy. And on the inside his soulless shell cried for there was no doubt in his mind that, if he saw her again, he would kill Buffy. 

&&&&&

Like a child sitting around a campfire, Buffy sat in the middle of the floor, legs crossed, and listened to Fred's account of the past twelve hours. Fred cried during the entire recap, and Cordy and Angel comforted her with gentle caresses and soothing words. Though Buffy's face displayed the horror that should would've have felt any other time, her mind was on other things. 

_Selfish bitch, _a part of her swore. She couldn't dispute that claim. Aside from the panic that bubbled within her at the sight of Angel's car pulled onto the curb and Fred's tale, it was all overshadowed by the images that continued to play in Buffy's mind. She had no doubt that when the time came to perform her slayerly duties, she'd be the consummate professional, casting aside the potential distractions. But the fact that, aside from sympathizing with Fred, there was nothing more to be done tonight, she couldn't help but shine the spotlight on her vampire in bed with another woman. 

"Take your time, Fred," she whispered when the frail woman couldn't speak over the lump in her throat. Good, she thought, her interaction would keep the others at bay for the time being. They didn't need to know about Spike and his infidelity. It didn't concern them. 

A quick glance at Jay and Buffy knew her daughter was cognizant that something wasn't quite right with the Slayer. She gave Buffy an encouraging smile before turning back to Fred but the squint of her cerulean-green eyes screamed out her suspicion. 

Buffy tensed involuntarily. She'd deflected any inquiries Jay may have had on the walk back by talking about anything and everything. She'd attempted to maintain some sort of calm but towards the end, as the images of Spike and the other woman continued to play out, she knew that she was near the breaking point. Thankfully, Jay hadn't seen through the charade and the Slayer had thought she'd been home free. But now, even amidst Fred's tale, she knew that Jay would want answers. 

"And he saved me." 

"Who saved you, Fred?" Buffy asked, returning her attention to the young woman. 

"I…I don't know. I never really got to see him. I mean I did but…" 

"It was the same guy that put me in the hospital," CJ said, speaking up for the first time. 

"I thought you said she turned up on your doorstep," Angel said and Buffy heard the accusation in his voice. 

CJ opened his mouth to answer but Dawn responded to Angel. "Does it matter," she said, "if he didn't tell us right away? He would've had to repeat it when Buffy got here anyway, what's the big?" 

"The big--" Angel began but a single glance from Cordelia cut him off. 

"It doesn't matter, guys," the seer said. "As long as we know now." 

"So what did he look like?" Buffy asked. 

"Your typical white night," CJ replied, "and I do mean that literally." As the young man's words clicked, Faith glanced at Xander. 

"X-man," she said, "I hate to put you on the spot like this but I think it's time you came clean." Buffy watched the silent conversation occur between the couple and she couldn't help but smile. Her love life may have been in shambles but at least Xander's seemed to be on track. 

"Okay," he said. Xander exhaled but the unease visible in his posture refused to abate. "I'm gonna tell you guys something and I don't want you freak out on me, okay?

"For all intents and purposes, Frost is…well, he's my brother…" 

&&&

The instant Morrigann walked through the doors of the lair, she knew there was trouble. Of course, watching Frost nearly choking the life out of one of the Zidiahni while the other--M'ul At--staggered to his feet just below the impressive crack in the wall. 

"Looks like a few somebodies have been busy while I was away," she purred, smiling when all three turned towards her. Her gaze flitted over the twins but focused on the cold eyes of the white warrior. 

"I see someone has enjoyed her time out," Frost spat, his grip tightening around D'bahn's neck. 

"He has betrayed us, Morrigann," M'ul At growled, and pointed the gun attached to his right arm at Frost. 

"Your brother will be dead before you could think to fire, demon." 

M'ul At cursed. "But you would be, too." 

"Are you willing to take that chance?" 

Morrigann watched the display with a keen amusement and as much as she would have loved to see blood shed, time was not to be wasted. 

"If you ladies can quit with the demonic testosterone from flowing so thick, you'd see that I have some news." Frost's eyes narrowed to slits but she saw the recognition behind his ice blues. 

"Where is he?" he whispered and relinquished his grip on D'bahn. He stalked over to her, stopping a foot away. "What is your game, succubus?" 

She smiled, pouring all her energy into it and couldn't resist the chuckle when she saw him falter, if only for an instant. "Believe me, Frost, nothing less than is required for our victory." 

"What are you speaking of?" D'bahn rasped while his brother helped him to his feet. 

"I'm speaking of our new ally," she said and glanced over her shoulder. "You can come in now." 

The figure crossed the threshold and smoke hugged his form like the leather duster that draped his lithe form. The ceiling light reflected off his platinum hair and when he looked up, the mixture of blue and violet was clear in his eyes. 

"G'day, mates," he said and flicked ash from his cigarette to the floor. "Heard you had some problems with a handful of slayers." 

"What is this, Morrigann?" Frost asked. 

"This," she said and slid her arm around Spike's waist, "is William the Bloody." 

"I know who he is…" 

"Doubt that, mate," Spike said and cocked his head to the side. "Tell 'em, luv. Tell 'em who I am." 

Morrigann smiled and devoured his lips in a searing kiss before turning back towards her allies. "This is William the Bloody," she repeated. "Our new associate."

"And why would he want to join us?" M'ul At asked. 

Spike turned to Morrigann and whispered (though everyone heard clearly enough) "You were right, they are some daft buggers." Ignoring their protests, Spike extricated himself from Morrigann's arms and approached the two brothers. He all but ignored Frost. 

"Quite simple, really. 'M here to get rid o' your problem." 

"And what problem would that be?" Frost asked. 

Spike gave the warrior a cursory glance and shook his head. "There's only one real problem you have, mate, and that's the Slayer. Singular. The other ones are good, but that Summers is the sparkplug for the rest of 'em. 

"I'm gonna make that sparkplug doesn't fire." 

"How?" 

The vampire shrugged. "The only way I know how; by killing the bint." 

TBC in **_The Unknown Soldier…_**


	40. Unknown Soldier

Severed Ties 

****

Chapter 39

__

The Unknown Soldier

Frost's eyes narrowed and, forgetting the three demons that had accompanied him to Sunnydale, focused on the platinum blonde. There was something about Spike that he instantly disliked. He wasn't sure if it was the cocky flair that all bad asses without honor carried or the confident knowledge that he was needed. Whatever it was, the frigid warrior wanted nothing more than to run the vampire through with _Airendale. _He curtailed that desire, however, and critiqued the words that had just left Spike's mouth. 

"You plan to kill the slayer?"

Spike shrugged and glanced at Morrigann. "Thought you said he was the bright one of the lot, pet." He blew out a final plume of smoke and tossed the fag to the ground. "That's what I said, mate; I'm gonna kill the Slayer…not the brunette trollop or my daughter dearest, but the real Slayer. Buffy Summers." 

Frost chuckled, a sound of ice scraping across metal. "Pardon my disbelief, vampire, but you are her lover, are you not?" 

"_Was _her lover, mate. Emphasis on was."   
"Was?" D'Bahn asked. 

"Yeah," Spike replied, "meaning 'not anymore'." He took another step

forward and gazed at Frost. "And you really expect to have things in order for the poofter's arrival? I must say, unless you blokes got something else in your bag 'o tricks, I'm not seein how you could do anything without pretty lil me." 

"And that's why you're here, lover boy," Morrigann purred and crushed herself to Spike's back. "While these three are formative warriors and Frost--though he may be unimaginative and has an icicle up his hidden parts--has the intelligence to scheme up a battle plan, you are the key." 

Frost ignored Morrigann's exchange between Spike, his mind on something the blonde had just said. Fury rose within him and he nearly pulled his sword from its sheathe. Instead, he strode over to the two vampires and, pushing Spike away, glared at Morrigann. 

"You told him about Gabriel? Are you so ruled by the heat between your legs that you would endanger our Master's plans for _this_?" He pointed towards Spike and when the latter took a menacing step forward, _Airendale's _tip danced across Spike's neck, drawing blood when it nicked his flesh. "Careful, vampire," Frost said, his eyes still blazing holes through an obviously unconcerned succubus. "If you wish to battle me, have at it. But know that it is a fight you cannot win." 

"He's right, my dear," Morrigann said and positioned herself between the two. She reached behind her and Spike took her proffered hand. "Frost is a most powerful warrior. Other than that minor setback against Seth, I don't believe I've seen him bested." 

" 'S not like I haven't beat the odds before," Spike replied and draped his arm over Morrigann's shoulders. Holding his free hand up, he ticked away the points with his fingers. "Faced off against a hell god, killed two slayers, fought a third to standoff on numerous occasions, shagged a slayer and made her fall for me and, last but not least--knock said slayer up in, oh, about twenty years. So, I'd say a good old fashion rhubarb with the white warrior over there'd be a piece o' cake." 

"Can't let my two boys fight now, can I?" she tsked. 

"I am not yours, succubus," Frost spat and sheathed his sword. He turned his back to the four and walked out to the deck in the back. He overheard the demon brothers filling the vampires in on what would no doubt be seen as his treachery but he didn't care. Instead, he focused on the crisp summer night, the multitude of insects performing as an orchestra. It was a welcome disturbance, his solace in many ways. It'd been on a night like this--what, four hundred years ago? Five?--that he'd met the person that would change his life. 

"Where are you now, old man?" He rested his forearms against the railing and peered down the hill at the flickering lights of the small town below. Vampires and other demons scurried through the night now, killing innocents here and there. But once Gabriel arrived, there would be no more Sunnydale. The people that had been protected for years by the Slayer and her friends would be no more. The Slayer was formidable but Frost knew the power his Master possessed. In truth, Gabriel had enough skill with his magic alone to destroy the Slayer and her friends. Though he was never one for prophecies, Frost began to lend credence to the truth of what Gabriel had told them. 

Was he that afraid of the hybrid-child? That was quite possible but if that were the case, why not have them kill her now? Now that he thought about it, some of Gabriel's initiatives made no sense to Frost. Only now, however, had Frost realized this much. Gabriel had given them free reign to do as they pleased, save for killing the slayers. Anyone else, including the vampire, had been fair game. 

_The vampire…_

Just as the previous thoughts had derailed his calm, the image of the platinum blonde refused to leave his mind. What was Spike's game, anyway? Frost had been told about the love that existed between the Slayer and her vampire before they'd departed from the future time. Why would he betray her then? Though he knew the power of Morrigann's pheromones once released into a victim's blood, he'd never thought she could turn someone as obstinate as William the Bloody. 

"Something's not right here," he whispered to the night. But the more he attempted to understand the events the more his mind drifted back…back to days long past. Days when he was human. 

Days that he'd refused to dwell on for generations. 

The click of footsteps behind him drew Frost's attention from his thoughts and he had never been more grateful to turn and see the glowing eyes of the succubus staring into him. 

"So," she said, the malice in her eyes belying the gentle curiosity of her voice, "the boys've told me you were busy while I was out." 

Frost shrugged and faced her. "That I have." 

Her eyes narrowed and she took another step towards him. "So you do not deny their accusations." 

"Why deny it? It will only come out in the future regardless. And though they speak the truth, I see not how my actions concern you or anyone…they do not jeopardize our purpose." 

"Do you really think that is what the Master will believe?" He flinched when her hand caressed his forearm. "My dear Frost, I know you are not that naïve. Gabriel shall be most displeased with your behavior." 

He pulled away from her touch, taking a step to her left. "My behavior? Am I not the one that prevented you from turning the young boy you took a fancy to?"

She stifled an exaggerated yawn. "You're reaching, Frosty my boy. Even if he'd been out of bounds, I believe conspiring with the enemy as you have would eliminate any semblance of good will. " She turned and strode towards the door and Frost's cold eyes followed her sway of their own accord. She stopped just inside the threshold and glanced back at him. "You have a bit yet to come to terms with the infinite possibilities that could perhaps be your punishment. I hope that, by the time it comes, you do not scream like all the others." 

Frost shivered at her words. The bitch was right. Once Gabriel caught wind of Frost's actions, the vampire Lord would be most displeased. True, it hadn't, and wouldn't, interfere with Gabriel's plans but he'd shown mercy to the enemy, something his Master would find wretched and cowardly. So, he'd pay with his blood and, like Morrigann had said, it was quite possible that the vampire Lord would fill the night with Frost's screams. 

His craned his neck towards the sky as his mind played back the images of the warriors the vampire Lord had broken with a blood-thirsty sadism surpassed only by his childe, Seth. Whereas Seth used nothing more than the physical tools available to him, Gabriel had access to an incalculable wealth of knowledge of the black arts. He could bring such agony onto a body that many times, once it was over, Frost had witnessed those that had forgotten who they were. 

Shaking his head, Frost walked back into the house. His last thought as he crossed into the room was if it came to that, he'd have nothing to lose. After all, he didn't know who the hell he was anymore, anyway. Hadn't for quite sometime. Maybe forgetting all coherent thought would, in fact, be a blessing. 

"If I were only that lucky,"he muttered to the now empty room. 

He was answered with silence. 

&&&

The room had taken on three seconds of complete silence at his announcement, but when it broke, Xander fought the urge to cover his ears.

"Tell me I didn't hear you…"

"--your brother?" 

"I've known you for how long and you've _never…" _

"--kissed Willow but not telling me about his sibling…" 

"…fucking jerk, I should…" On Faith's colorful promise, Xander clapped loudly until everyone simmered down. 

"Thank you. Now, if I could just explain…" 

"Yeah," Buffy chimed in, "explain how you forgot to tell us about your brother, who just so happens to be a bad ass bad guy who introduced me to his sword, Mr. Icicle and sent CJ to the hospital…" 

"…he did save me though," Fred whispered. 

"Which means," Dawn said, "that his motives are completely obscure, at best and…" 

"Completely duplicitous at worst," Angel declared. 

Xander held up his hands and walked into the middle of the floor. "People, please. While I know the whole 'brother' issue is an attention grabber, it may have been a bit misleading…" 

"I don't know, X," Faith said and he winced at her sarcasm. "There aren't too many ways 'brother' could be taken." 

"He could've been in a fraternity," CJ supplied. 

Dawn shook her head. "He didn't go to college, hon." 

"Thanks ever so, Dawnster." 

The One beamed at his sardonic reply. "No problem." 

"People," Angel said, "can we get back on the subject?" 

"Trying to tall, dark and brooding," Xander muttered. He ignored the vampire's indignant objection and took a deep breath. "Do you all know what I am?" 

"Of course," Buffy said, "you're Xander."

He shook his head. "Not _who _I am, but _what_."

"Well," Cordelia said, "aside from being a moronic jackass most of your life, I'd say you're human. If that's what you're trying to get at." 

"Thanks ever so, Cord," he replied sardonically. 

"No," Dawn said and Xander cringed from the power and certainty of her voice. "He's something else." 

No one spoke but Xander felt the weight of all eyes once again staring into him. He said nothing for several seconds, awaiting the questions but none came. He wanted to remain silent but knew he owed them an explanation. It wasn't as if it was _that _bad. Okay, so maybe he was now infused with the very things he'd hated but other than that, everything was on the up and up. 

Closing his eyes, Xander let out a harsh sigh. _What are they gonna think of me now? _He thought. _Oh, nothing, Xander, only that you're now the world's greatest hypocrite. _

Xander jumped when he felt a warm hand squeeze his fingers. He craned his neck and saw Faith's brown eyes, full of love and support, staring into his. That was all it took to give the once glorified bricklayer the strength to tell them his story. 

&&&

He didn't need eyes to feel the magic swirling around him. A maelstrom of black and purple whipped at his flesh, slashing him. He winced at every pull of the magic but never wavered. Even as powerful as he was, the forces he'd summoned, were he to mispronounce any part of the incantation in the slightest, would rip him apart. And though the soul he carried within him was tainted more than the demon housed in the husk of the once Irish rake, Gabriel knew there were still hells that even he could not fathom. 

Shouting in a language older than the hell dimension the human part of him was raised in, Gabriel harnessed the powers of the magic of the voice, directing it at the blonde figure bound to the seven foot cross. Though it hurt his eyes, he dared glance at the religious icon. The magic twisted around it in a dance it knew it couldn't win. It never touched the silver crucifix but battered and violated the small figure with impunity. Her unconscious body rebelled, spewing forth her now tainted blood from all openings. For a moment, the vampire warlock thought that this latest plan, thought up at the last minute, would be his undoing. But just as he thought her body would destroy him and everything in the room, her head lolled to the side and her body fell limp. 

"Well," Gabriel said after spending several minutes recuperating, "that wasn't so bad, now was it?" Brushing himself off, he stood and, on wobbly legs, made his way towards the motionless figure. Studying her face, he noted the ripples in her flesh where the Void's dark energy surged in her veins. When he caressed her cheek, his finger sizzled from her touch. 

"Perfect," he whispered and stroked her dirtied blonde locks. Immune to magic, she was also poisonous to the touch. Coupled with her already prodigious strength and skills, the dark magic would make her completely unstoppable and under his command. If that child was the only one that could bring forth his demise, Gabriel was going to make sure that she had to get past his new weapon. 

"And you are a wonderful weapon, aren't you, my dear?" Eyes that were once hazel and full of life glared at him with a malice that caused him to take a step back. Oh yes, the Slayer and vampire's child would have to go through this abomination first. And since she couldn't do it before, he doubted if the girl could kill this woman this time. 

After all, it was her mother. 

__

TBC in **The Path of Thorns **


	41. Path of Thorns

Severed Ties

****

Chapter 40

__

The Path of Thorns

****

Sorry for the loooooooooooong delay folks but now that I've got some RL stuff out of the way, I will be shooting for a weekly update. No promises that it will happen but I will try. The next chapter is already done and will be up in a few days. I'm halfway through Chapter 42 and hopefully will have it done before I post 41 Sunday or Monday.

Quick summary of last few chapters. Spike apparently has gone AWOL to the otherside as he is now Morrigann's consort. Wesley, Gunn and Lorne were slaughtered by Morrie and her gang (sans Frost) That same Frost, for reasons unknown, saved Fred from a fate worse than death. He then took her to CJ who then took her to Revello and Scooby Central. The Scoobs have found out that Frost is Xander's brother in arms (of a sort) and prepares to tell them the tale. Gabriel has brought forth another warrior, one that he knows Jay and the others will not be able to kill (read the last section of the previous chapter to find out just who it is)

July 22nd, 1692

He's been running for two days. He'd tried to sleep that night, tried to listen to the comforting words of the elders, of the other women, but it didn't work. Their words--no, poison--sickened him and he'd left but not before he raised his fist to those that burned her. Only by God's will did he not kill the bitches that had accused his sweet Sarah.

The single name escapes his lips and he collapses to the ground, exhausted and in pain that defies description. But it isn't a pain of the body but one of the heart. He had watched as they tied her (and several others) to the posts. Watched as her own father condemned her to burn in the flames of sin. He had felt nothing at first; he watched her screaming for him, begging him to save her. He calmly stated his position on the matter, how he was disappointed and appalled by her divinations into the dark arts. She heard nothing over her own wails of agony, wails that seemed to go on for hours before there was silence…and the still crackling fires.

He, along with the others, had justified their actions as God's will and as he lay in his bed that night, saying nightly prayers, he knew he'd done the right thing.

That was when the nightmares came.

It started much like the judgment, with the flames slowly made their way to her body. Only when they touched her, the orange and red element caressed her like an insistent lover. He had watched as the fire slowly took human shape. Her clothes were burned away but her flesh remained unmarked. Her fearful pleas became terrified whimpers as the hands slid across her naked form.

"Help me, my love," she cried. He moved towards her only to find himself frozen in place. Invisible chains rattled as he attempted to break free…it was all in vain, however. He could only watch as his Sarah was violated, inside and out, before her body turned to ash.

He witnessed her death and defilement dozens--perhaps hundreds--of times that night. When he awoke, his stomach rebelled at the images burned into his mind. He stumbled out towards the back, falling to his knees before expelling the contents of his stomach. He cried for hours. It had been just past dawn when he'd awakened, well past noon before he stopped as elder Stevens had appeared.

_Can't…think of that now, _he thinks and raises himself from the ground to start running again. His lungs pled for air, his legs are tortured from his flight, but he refuses to stop. He can never outdistance the memories of Sarah's death--she appears to him even when he faints from weariness--but he leaves behind the only life he'd known. The life that he had once embraced.

A life that had died with the woman he'd loved. He never wanted to…

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March, 2002

…believe that it would ever happen. Oh, there had been times where death had been on their heels, times where Xander Harris knew the Scoobies were doomed. Yet each time death had them within its grasp, they escaped.

But not this time.

Not Anya.

Xander gripped the steering wheel with all his strength. He would not cry, he would not fucking cry. He had shed enough tears during the past week, every night since he watched her die in his arms. No one else was there for him--Willow was at the hospital day and night, constantly by Tara or Buffy's side--but he didn't mind. The one person he needed was buried six feet underground now, never to tell him she loved him or make love to him or irritate him or to make him so happy he…

Arms no longer holding strength, Xander swerved off the road. The tires slid across the sand, the ting of pebbles slapping up against the car like bullets shot off into the night sky. After several seconds skating across the desert floor, the car ground to a halt. Putting it in Park, Xander buried his hands in his face and…

__

July, 1692

…cries. He cries at the full moon, howls at the earth, ripping handfuls of it from the ground. His wails last until his throat is hoarse and raw, until his ears ring from his cacophonous pleas. His body, malnourished and exhausted, gives up on him and he crashes face first into the dirt he had so recently dug up.

He doesn't know how long he lays there but when he finally gathers the fortitude to rise, he notes the presence of some…thing--someone?--hovering over him. Unsure of the visitor's motives, he feigns unconsciousness. He remains still for several minutes, aware of the stranger circling him.

Finally, the stranger says, "You know, if I was borne yesterday, your ruse may have been enough to confuse me." The humor in its tone is unmistakable. "But since I wasn't, I suggest that you get up."

Something in the stranger's words angers him and the young man rises to his feet, hands clenched into tight fists. He starts to speak but when his eyes take in the being before him, any coherence of thought is lost. He…

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March 2002

… gaped at the diminutive figure in front of him. A dozen sarcastic remarks filtered through his mind but for once Xander remained quiet.

Crystalline eyes stared at him, unblinking. In them, Xander saw the last few days of his life. The 'wrong' turn that led him to this place, the funeral, the sorrow in Jay's eyes when he cast a lone accusatory glance at her. Anya's final breath in his arms…

Xander coughed, and his hand gripped at his chest. The pain of losing Anya manifested in the physical. He hadn't been able to keep food down, hadn't been able to sleep since that night. In truth, he had no idea how he'd lasted this long, the exhaustion was that complete. But he had and now he was here. Something told the former carpenter that 'here' was exactly where he was supposed to be.

"You've got that right," the small figure said and pulled out a cigar. It was no more than five feet (on a good day) though most of its body was draped in a purple silk robe. Its face, uncovered as it was, reminded the brunette of a blunt nosed Splinter, whiskers and all…

"Careful who you liken me to, boy," the figure replied. It was clearly irritated. "And it would do me just fine if you'd refrain from thinking of me as an 'it'."

Finally, Xander found his voice. "Ex…excuse me?"

"As I suspected," the figure muttered and paced for several seconds. "You must have a difficulty in hearing, do you not?"

"Where the hell did you get an idea like that?"

The figure chuckled. "Certainly not Hell, that I know." On Xander's perplexed look, the figure's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Geez Louise, what happened to the Xander Harris that Buffy and Willow have come to know and love?"

Xander took a step forward, his fists instinctively tightening into fists. "How…how did you know my name? My friends names?"

The figure cast an annoyed sighed and lifted his head up to the sky. "Do I always get the slow ones with broken hearts?"

"Look, short, dark and mysterious," Xander moves forward, feeling not quite as confident as his actions suggested. "I don't know who you think you are but I…"

"Oh, I know who I am, Xander," the figure said. "The question, dear boy, is do you know who _you _are?"

Xander began to reply but the figure's words started to twist in his head. The answer, though hidden underneath the pain of Anya's loss and before that, the sarcastic veneer he'd used as his shield for so long, was clear. In fact, he didn't know how he didn't see it sooner.

"Your silence speaks volumes, Xander Harris."

"What do you want from me?" Xander's voice held nothing but the weariness of pain and suffering.

"What do you want from yourself?" The figure asked then swore. "Bastard's gonna use that line in a movie." The figure pondered within himself and, finally realizing Xander was still there, smiled. "Sorry, got a tap into the future."

"Is that so?"

"Don't look so glum, chap. Things will be looking up soon enough."

Xander's laugh held all the cynicism of a boy who'd witnessed too much heartache and not enough love in his young life. "What are you gonna do? Turn back time? Make sure I was never born?"

"I'm gonna go one better," the figure said. As he approached, Xander attempted to step back but was rooted to the spot. There was something disconcerting about this creature's passion. It radiated from his small frame and from (what he now saw) crimson and black eyes.

"What I'm gonna do, Alexander, is give you the chance to become what you've always wanted."

"And what's that?"

There was no mistaking the satisfactory gleam in the figure's eyes. And when he spoke, a chill harped its way down the brunette's spine. "Simple: I'm gonna make you into a hero…"

__

1692?

"A hero?" he shouts and swipes at Diohbin-Zi's legs. The Elwvenian leaps over the strike and slashes towards his opponent's neck, stopping two inches from decapitating him. He glances at the gleaming sword then to his teacher's mirth-filled eyes. "Would a hero get bested _again _by an elf?"

"I see your humor has not yet been defeated," Diohbin-Zi says and lowers his sword. "I thought that the last few years had withered it away."

He follows the Elwvenian, taking a seat next to the aging Master. "Forgive me, Master but my spirit has not felt the levity since…" His shoulders slumped. There are times when the memory of Sarah's death is an anchor, weighting his soul against the possibility of moving on. Now is one of those times and his entire body engulfs the melancholy that will always visit him.

"Your sorrow, while understandable, my apprentice, accomplishes nothing." His small hand touches the man's shoulder and warmth suffuses through him. It is as if his flesh is beset by a thousand suns, but he does not burn nor does he feel pain. Instead, it is a balm to his pained soul. Soul…just as the word flickers across his mind, he senses changes that begin to occur beyond the physical. His dear Sarah's face at death, once at the forefront of his mind, slowly dissipates, leaving in its wake her beautiful face but only a passing memory of her hideous fate. He does not question this, but accepts it and as he does, he knows--understands--that he will be different, that he will a force like no other. And all it takes is…

__

??2002??

"…removal of his memories."

Xander sat, cross-legged, chewing on--well, he didn't exactly _know _what it was--but he listened to Diohbin-Zi's tale with rapt attention. It had been one of the more grueling training sessions with the small Elwvenian drilling Xander on the use of the trident. When he pressed his Master about the relevancy of that particular weapon, the Elwvenian grew silent for several minutes before he wearily sat on the log and relayed the tale of his last pupil, the hybrid that had taken the name Frost as his own.

"So, why didn't you do that with me?" Xander asked. "I mean, yeah, the grief isn't so bad now but if this Frost guy was feelin' it as bad as me…"

When he next spoke, Diohbin-Zi's irritation was clear. "Were you not listening to a word I said? Is your insight so dulled that you do not understand?" Xander lowered his head but looked up when the demon sighed. "Forgive me, Alexander, but the subject of Frost's transformation is a bitter subject for me--still."

"No, Master, I should be the one to apologize. Though I still am not certain what went wrong."

"It's simple, really. I have been around for countless ages, Alexander, training hundreds, perhaps thousands, of beings in the way of the warrior. The majority of my disciples have been demons, though I have only instructed the noblest and benign of the races." Xander opened his mouth to speak but Diohbin-Zi silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Despite what you have come to believe, Alexander, the purpose of most demons is not much different than that of mankind."

"Is that so? Forgive me if I'm cynical but five plus years on the Hellmouth has taught me a little bit about demons' purposes. And if it's not bringing hell to earth, then it's tormenting us as best they can."

"Is not the Hellmouth an malevolent construct?" Xander nodded. "The Hellmouth is a beacon for evil and does it not make sense that it would draw the most hostile of beings to it?"  
Xander frowned. "Well, I never really thought of it that way, but…"

"How many demon species do you think you have come across in your time living on the Hellmouth? Fifty? A hundred? Alexander, even if you have come across two hundred demonic species in your time, you have not even scratched the surface of the expanse of demon kind. My point is that, like humans, there are demons who wish nothing more than to reign destruction and pain on those around them for no other reason than to do so. Other demons may do seemingly evil things out of a misguided sense that it will make things better for them."

"Sounds an awful lot like an excuse to me."

The Elwvenian gave Xander the patient smile that the latter despised. It was one that a parent would present to humor a petulant child. "It may sound like that to you, but I only speak fact.

"The last type of demon is like most humans; they want nothing more than to peacefully coexist. The latter of the three want nothing to do with hotspots such as the Hellmouth as they abhor evil just as you and your friends." On Xander's doubtful glance, Diohbin-Zi shook his head. "It does not matter what I say for you shall harbor your own opinion. And no one will be able to change that but you. But we are off track, you had asked me about Frost and why what I did to him affected him so."

"It just doesn't make sense, I mean…"

"Yes, it does, Alexander. Save for you, Frost was the only human to merge with the essence of my kind." He thought for a minute and smiled grimly. "Actually, that is not true, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that both you and Frost felt grief's sharp claws in your heart. Whereas you continue to work through yours, with Frost I allowed him a shortcut of sorts…"

__

Present

"A shortcut?" Dawn asked and slid her hand into CJ's.

Xander smiled at her subconscious gesture and mimicked her by entwining his fingers with his brunette slayer. "When Diohbin-Zi infused Frost with the demon's essence, his grief hardened his soul and he sort of latched onto the one thing that Diohbin-Zi had introduced to Frost; the thrill of combat."

"It sounds like the fight became his new mistress," CJ said and Xander caught the underlying tinge of excitement in the young man's voice. A quick look around and he noticed that Buffy and Angel had as well.

"Well, for lack of a better term, that's exactly what happened. Anything Frost had felt for Sarah was transferred to the glory of the fight. At first, it hadn't become a problem but as Frost become more proficient in the art, Diohbin-Zi saw the slow degradation of Frost's soul."

"That can't be right," Fred interjected vehemently. "I looked into his eyes, I felt his warmth with he carried me. He's not evil…"

"Evil is as evil does," Cordelia whispered and the strength Fred had gained withered.

"I think Fred is right," Buffy said. "Yeah, Frost may never win a hero of the year award but even when I fought with him in the cemetery…it's like he doesn't care about power or destruction, just the fight."

"Not too wrong about that, Buff," Xander agreed. "From what my Master told me, Frost is all about the fight. He's all about honor and fealty."

"So he lives by a code, like the samurai?" Angel asked.

Xander chuckled. "Pretty much, Dead Boy."

"I thought I told you to stop calling me that."

"Sorry," Xander said, though his tone said otherwise. "Angel's right. Unlike most beings, Frost is all about the honor and the thrill of the fight. I think that's why he stepped in when the gruesome twosome had Fred; it's totally not his style to watch someone be taken like that."

"Do you think that he could be persuaded to our side then?" Buffy asked.

Xander shook his head. "Doubtful."

"Probably 'cause it's too predictable," Dawn muttered sarcastically.

"That," CJ agreed dryly, "or the whole samurai/fealty thing."

"You're right, CJ. Once Frost swears allegiance to someone, it's unlikely he'll jump ship. Besides," Xander shrugged, "Why do you think Diohbin-Zi groomed me?"

No one answered at first though he saw the reluctant understanding in Buffy and Angel's eyes.

"You can't win," Angel whispered. "You know that, don't you?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Angel," Faith replied snidely and turned her attention to Xander. "Don't worry, baby, you won't have to do it alone, I'll be right there with you."

"No," Buffy said, her voice flat. "You can't."

"The hell I can't," Faith snapped.

Xander grabbed his lover by the shoulders and kissed her forehead. "B's right, Faith. It's not a Scoobie fight." She tried to speak but Xander's fingers on her lips quieted the brunette slayer. "Look, baby, when everything goes down, you all are gonna have your hands full with the others; Frost is mine to deal with."

Faith jerked away. Though anger sang from her every pore, the fear was just as clear as it bled from her eyes in the form of unshed tears. "So, you're gonna get yourself killed over what? Some macho bullshit?"

Xander took Faith's resistant hands into his own. As their eyes connected, everything else in the room faded to a dull gray, but his girl was in full color. "That's how the cards were laid down, baby. Diohbin-Zi told me that much. From the time he unknowingly gave birth to Frost, he knew that I would be the only one that could make his mistake right. Somehow, this has been my destiny all along. And not because my Master said it, but because I can feel it, Faith. I can _feel _it. It's what I'm supposed to do."

"But we can't lose you, Xan," Buffy said, her voice hoarse. "W_e've _lost enough as it is."

"Buff, you more than anyone here knows about doing what you have to do, regardless of the price you have to pay. This is what I have to do, and I'll see it through to the end, cost be damned."

No words were said from there. Xander led a despondent Faith into their temporary residence in the Summers basement where he made quiet love to her. Her tears stung his lips and her whispers of love tore at his heart.

When she finally fell into an exhaustive slumber, Xander held her tight and murmured promises of a life after all this was over. He had no doubt that Frost was better than him but he also knew that if he didn't think he at least had a chance to win, he wouldn't. And to go into battle as such--the walking dead--was not the way of a warrior. Although he would never admit it aloud, Xander wished that Spike were there. If the bleached blonde was anything, it was confident. Oh, there was a certain helping of cocky to go along with that but Spike never went into a fight, knowing he would lose. He'd find a way to get it done and if not, he was sure to go down in a blaze of glory.

Xander smiled as his mind calmed and he felt the pull of sleep. No, he wouldn't worry about what was to come, not now at least. But when it did come, he would meet it head on, no quarter given, none asked. He and Frost would fight one another and the better man would walk away alive and in tact. Glancing down at the petite woman in his arms, Alexander Harris swore that, somehow, he'd make sure that that person would be him.

"You've gotta have faith," he whispered.

"You have me," the brunette at his side mumbled before falling back to sleep.

_That I do, _he thought. "That I do."

TBC in **_Intuition…_**

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	42. Intuition

Severed Ties

Chapter 41

Intuition

July 11, 2002

It was an unseasonably cool night in California, as the temperature dipped into the mid-forties. The petite blonde on the back porch didn't care. The windbreaker she had left the house with lay next to her on the back porch. The wind sliced and prodded her, painting goose bumps across her flesh. Still, she did not mind. Hazel eyes stared into the blackish gray sky and her ears perked at the distant rumbling of thunder. It would rain again, just like it had five of the last seven days.

It had been a week since they had been made aware of the events in LA, the murder of all but one of Angel and Cordelia's friends. One week since a traumatized Winifred Burkle had been delivered to Buffy's doorstep by a demonic warrior whose motives had yet to be discovered, though his allegiance remained with the bad guys. Angel and Cordy had left three days ago to take care of their deceased comrades' affairs. Fred had wanted to go but admitted that it was too soon, and she would say her final goodbyes to Gunn and the others as soon as the coming battle was over.

"If it ever begins," the Slayer muttered to the empty backyard. Buffy had never been good at waiting and recent circumstances--i.e. a certain blonde vampire switching sides--had made the wait even more unendurable. If only she could find something to hurt…and bad. Starting with the skank hoe that was Spike's new companion.

Anger and pain fought for supremacy within Buffy's mind as she thought of her lover--_former _lover--in the arms of another woman. The one person who had stayed through her bullshit, who'd thought she was more than good enough for a second go had done the same thing every other man in her life had done; he'd left.

"Mind if I join ya?" Willow's fluttery voice asked from behind her and Buffy was thankful for the distraction.

"Why not?" she replied and slid over towards the banister.

Willow took a seat and was quiet for several minutes but her nervous energy was palpable and Buffy knew she had something to say. She'd known Willow long enough to steel herself for the stuttering, rapid-fire 'no-I'm-not-trying-to-get-at-something' spiel before the Wicca finally got to the point. Even after all this time Willow could never skip the preliminaries.

"You're hurting, Buffy, I know it. And I want to help." Okay, so maybe she could. Willow turned towards her and Buffy saw the concern hidden in the redhead's emerald eyes. "Just tell me where to start."

Buffy started to deny it. She was okay, hell, this little Slayer had laid the smack down on a god while all watched. She thought of shooing Willow back into the house with the whole peachy-side 'o keen assurances she had given when they'd resurrected her. But one look at Willow's pleading yet resolute face destroyed any attempts at false optimism.

"Wow, you sure did get to the point," the Slayer remarked. Okay, so Avoidy Buffy wasn't gonna go down without a fight."  
"Well," Willow said and couldn't fight the blush that crept up her neck. "That Fourth of July Wicca Weekend me and Tara went to, a big part of it was being assertive and not going so much with the tentative prying and…hey! No fair changing the subject."

Willow's comical objection brought a smile to the Slayer's lips, lips that hadn't had many reasons to smile. "Sorry, Will. Guess my old habits don't die quiet as easy as yours."

"It's okay, Buffy, really…"

"No it's not," she interrupted vehemently. "It's nowhere near okay. We're about six counties away from it being okay, Wills." Buffy sighed and bit her lip to hold back the tears that had constantly wanted to fall for the past two weeks. "It hurts, Will, it hurts so bad. It's like when Angel went Manson on us but crank up the shocked and surprised factor by about ten. Yeah, I know he doesn't have a soul and you all can say what you want about how I should've known better. The fact is, I already did know better. I knew better to doubt him after all he'd done, after all he'd put up with just for me."

Buffy glanced down at the steps underneath her. She focused on the uneven texture of the concrete, how the coolness bled through her shorts--anything to stave off the monster cry-fest she was sure was bubbling to the surface. "I'm not a kid anymore, Willow. I didn't think that he wouldn't hurt me. That stuff about someone worth your tears won't make you cry is a load of crap. The more you love someone, the easier it is for them to make you cry. Spike was going to make me cry, that I know, but I never thought he'd do it purposely. I never thought he'd cheat on me…I never thought…"

Words couldn't express the pain she felt and the Slayer acknowledged that there was only one way to transmit to her best friend just how torn up inside she was.

The tears rushed from her soul like a shattering dam and she buried her face in the crook of Willow's neck. Her arms drew Buffy in and the Slayer returned the favor. She cried out everything she'd kept from the others, the things she discussed with Dawn, the reassurances she gave to Jay though she didn't believe. She cried for having to be strong in front of everyone when she felt the weakest of the group. She cried for the frustration of still wanting him despite how he'd crushed her. And finally, she cried because at that moment, tears were the only thing she knew.

Willow held Buffy as the latter released the torrent of fear and doubt that had been bombarding Tara for the past week. Though she knew Buffy was putting on a brave face, without Tara's sensitivity to the Slayer's emotions, Willow would have never understood the depth of her best friend's pain.

Several minutes after it had started, the Slayer's tears trickled out and Buffy's sobs dwindled to whimpers and, finally, nothing but sniffles.

"I think I snotted your shirt," the Slayer said, reluctantly pulling away. Willow huffed.

"Well, someone's just gonna have to get up off her tuckus later and wash it." That earned a thin smile from the blonde. "And if that doesn't work, well, you'll just have to go searching for a replacement at Old Navy."

"But you hate Old Navy. You told me."

Willow shrugged. "I have a right to change my mind if I want. Wronged party here."

The two women shared a rueful laugh but all to soon the levity evaporated and Willow was looking into a face that had experienced too much heartbreak in her short twenty-one years. And just like that, the speech Willow had been planning for the last six hours vanished into the ether. But, unlike most times, she wasn't scared that she would say the wrong thing or that Buffy would dismiss her words with a 'you don't understand'. Still, she wasn't sure how to broach what was on everyone's mind now that Spike was playing for the other team. Namely, that…

"Are you gonna kill him?" Okay, so maybe she could've been a little more sensitive. She cringed, expecting a look of resentment and disgust, but all she saw in Buffy's hazel eyes was weariness and the fraying of hope.

"Wow," the Slayer said and ran a hand through her blond locks. She gave the witch a bemused look. "So, are you Willow or some body snatcher alien."

"I'm serious, Buffy. Look, maybe I should've employed just a bit of tact with that instead of exploring my inner Anya…" she faltered at the mention of Xander's deceased fiancee but shook it off. "But I need to know."

That was when the resentment did come. "What do you want me to say, Wills? I don't fucking know! I don't know if I can, don't know if I should. You're asking me to kill a man I love…"

"You killed Angel." Buffy jumped from the steps and glared at Willow with a fury that threatened to burn through the redhead.

"You don't think I know that? You think I don't fucking remember that?!?! Jesus, Wills, what the hell?!"

"I'm sorry, Buff. I know you did and I know it probably still hurts and I couldn't imagine what you went through…"

She chuckled. "No, you can't."

"But the point is, Spike's not playing for us anymore and while he's not gonna be directly responsible for the Apocalypse in the way Angelus was, he's still gonna be an obstacle. All I meant was that…"

"If he's in my way, will I have the courage to cut him down."

Willow walked over to Buffy and held the Slayer's hands. "Something's coming Buffy. You can feel it, I can feel it. But Tara, Tara feels something else besides the upcoming fight. You're gonna have to make a choice."

"What do you mean?"

"When the time comes, you're gonna have to make a choice about Spike. Tara doesn't know what that choice will be, she just knows that when it comes, you'll know."

"And what happens if I make the wrong choice?" Willow avoided Buffy's eyes and the latter knew exactly what the silence meant. It meant that Buffy's choice could very well be the difference between them winning and losing.

Buffy sighed and disengaged from Willow. The redhead watched her best friend wander into the backyard, her shoulders slumped with another boulder placed upon her back. It wasn't fair for a young woman to have such responsibility for, not only herself and her friends, but the world as well. In high school, Willow had envied Buffy's take charge, carefree attitude but now…now there was only sympathy. She would fight right by Buffy's side but Willow Rosenberg would never know what it meant to be charged with such a burden.

Selfish as it may have been, she prayed to the Goddess that she never would.

Fred sat opposite Tara as the Wicca divvied out the cards. They'd lost themselves in a handful of card games, unwilling, for a few hours at least, to dwell on things they could not change. At least not yet.

"So, 'War' it is?" Fred asked.

Tara shrugged. "At least for now. I'd rather not have to think to much right now." She tossed down her first card, a six of clubs.

"Me neither," the slender brunette replied. She won the duel with a nine of diamonds. "But…"

"But what?"

"I don't know." Tara won the round--ten of hearts to a four of clubs. "It's just that…" Fred shook her head and threw down a Queen of spades. "It's nothing." She glanced up when Tara's warm hand covered her own.

"Don't say that." Tara sat her stack of cards to the side. "Winifred, something's weighing on you, I can feel it. And it's more than just the death of your friends."

The young scientist flinched but didn't turn away. She saw the empathy in the other woman's eyes and though she wasn't sure she could get it all out, Fred knew that she had to be honest, had to tell someone.

"It's been a little over a week, Tara, that I watched the man I love killed. Two of my other good friends were killed and I was almost…you know, by those demons. Yet here I am, sitting on a bed playing cards. It doesn't seem fair."

"People deal with grief in their own ways," Tara said and laid a hand on Fred's knee.

"But that's the thing. I…I don't feel like I'm dealing with it at all. It's like my emotions are on hold and I'm pushing my friends who died out of sight." Fred sighed harshly and stood, spilling the cards across the mattress. "The worst thing of it is that all I can think about is Frost and why he saved me. And that makes me push Gunn further out of my mind because…because…"

"Because you feel as if you're betraying him."

"Just because he saved me from--just because he saved me doesn't give me the right do the hero worship thing." She chuckled and removed her glasses and pinched her nose. "I already did that with Angel."

Tara's bemused smirk lightened the load threatening to crush Fred's thin shoulders. Ever since the night of her rescue, her thoughts had continually fallen to the hybrid. Her gratefulness had only intensified as Xander told them his story. She didn't know why but something whispered to her about Frost though it was not his tale that had been told. It was as if they'd had a connection that spanned centuries which, if she thought about it was nothing short of ridiculous. They'd spent maybe twenty minutes together and the majority of that time she'd been unconscious. So why was it that he came to her at night, both figuratively and literally? Oh, she knew he was there, outside her window, though she never saw him. She may not have been a fighter but she remembered being in his arms and the promise of his name tickled her spine each night that he came. Her dreams after she felt his presence were…well, they just were.

She confessed all but Frost's visits to Revello and the nature of the dreams to Tara. The Wicca glanced into her eyes and Fred had to look away. There was no accusation in Tara's stare but one look had Fred wanting to tell the truth. And that was something she did not want to do.

"Fred." The sound of her name from Tara weakened her knees and she sat back on the bed. The sincerity and concern in the witch's voice was beyond description. She allowed Tara to draw her hands into her lap and sighed as warmth cascaded through to her bones. It was a direct opposite to Frost's touch but was no more pleasant.

"Something's coming, I can feel it." Tara took a deep breath. "I don't know what it is but I do know that it's a very real possibility that all of us won't make it. Just as I told Willow, Buffy and Spike's situation will greatly weigh in on the outcome, so will Frost."

"What do you mean?"

"I know that he visits you." Fred couldn't mask her surprise and Tara smiled. "I can feel him, too. I don't think the others can because he has a cloak of stealth he pulls over him---figuratively speaking--but his aura shines so bright to me. You were right when you said he wasn't evil but he's not good, either. Xander may be right and that Frost will not change sides, but that doesn't mean he won't make a choice that walks the line of betrayal."

The pressure that swam in Fred's chest dissipated and she slid her glasses back into place. "So, feelin a bit dangerous, lil lady?" she asked in her best western accent. Tara laughed and replied with the same accent.

"Yes, I am, ma'am. Is poker tha game?"

"That it is, ma'am, that it is." They held each other's eyes for several seconds before bursting into giggles. This was good, Fred thought as they regained their composure. She'd needed someone to talk to and Tara had been the only one she'd felt comfortable letting things go with. She was still frightened and though she kept some of her deeper fears in check, she knew that Tara had an intrinsic knowledge of them. And though Tara had gave her hope that Frost would do good--Fred still didn't understand the unexpected connection with him--part of her was still terrified that Tara's intuition wouldn't be enough. If it wasn't, Fred hoped that praying to a God that her science never really allowed her to contemplate would make Himself know.

After all, she wasn't asking for much, was she?

TBC in **A Rush of Blood to the Head…**


End file.
